TEC2: Defining Elle
by etiquette-faux-pas
Summary: It's been two years. Two years since Elle Connelly left her life in Seattle to move 'North'. Facing her third Christmas as Santa's Number Two Elf, Elle is dealing with more challenges than ever before: she is engaged to Bernard, but things are far from from perfect. And now she has to go home and deal with her family? Oh God, no. (Sequel to The Emissary Clause.)
1. Prologue

**Hello again my lovely readers! After all these months, here it is! The sequel to TEC. As of now, ****_The Emissary Clause _****is officially complete! I hope you enjoy this new story as much as you did the first. Please remember to follow this story, as TEC will no longer be updated, i.e., no more notifications (unless you're following my profile, in which case, GOOD ON YOU MATE!)**

**And don't forget to check out:**

**-****_Crystal Springs, _****by ****_SafyreSky, _****and**

**-****_Frost and Fire, _****by ****_WinterFrost15._**

**There is plenty of Bernora fluff in both of these, not to mention they are simply excellent stories. Remember to favorite and follow them as well!**

**Let's get started then.**

**All the Best to You and Yours,**

**-Ana**

TEC2: Defining Elle

Prologue: Ideas, Thoughts, Reflections

It had been a long two years.

First, there had been the Emissary Clause. So many things had happened in a matter of months; lives had been changed, history altered, requirements met. Serious, life choices had been made that a girl of seventeen wouldn't normally face at that point in her life.

Then, the Escape Clause. She and Bernard had gone away on a three month vacation, the vacation she had convinced him to take. Well, had had Santa convince him to take, with her. It had been wonderful, that vacation; even though they had spent a large part of it worrying about what might go wrong in their absence. Turns out, they had been right to worry.

Finally, the Deliquesce. All of those crazy, worrisome days when no one had been sure who was capable of what. She had almost lost her best friend a second time.

The one thing all three situations had in common? Somehow, they had all turned out alright.

But then, Ellington Sophia Connelly had had more than her average share of magic, and that is partially what found her where she was today.

Today was the 25th of October. It was a normal workday, pretty much like every ordinary one before it…well, as normal as could be expected, considering where she worked.

Ellington, now called Elle by those who knew her best, worked in the most magical, amazing place anyone ever could; quite literally the stuff of legend. A place so secret that she couldn't even tell her own family where she really was, where she had really been for the past two years. A place that only a child would agree even existed.

The North Pole.

Yeah, somehow she couldn't find an easy way to break that bit of news to the parents.

That, or the fact that she had become an elf to be able to work there permanently.

Alongside her fiancé.

Who was also an elf.

Santa's head elf, if that made any difference. And she was Santa's Number Two elf.

Sometimes, in the early mornings before getting up for work, Elle would count ten impossible things about her life, just to assure herself that she wasn't in some kind of a dream. After all that had happened in those twenty three months, she still had to remind herself that she wasn't dreaming from time to time. Just imagining a better life when she was actually back at home in her room, sleeping peacefully before another early morning in Seattle as a university student.

Sometimes, it was as easy as looking out her window. Snow in July is a pretty accurate indicator of a Polar climate.

Other times, it took getting up and going to work to fully grasp the reality of the magical world that she now lived in.

It had been the latter kind of morning. After two cups of coffee (third still in hand), Elle had made it out of her room and into the Workshop...Santa's Workshop, she reminded herself, gazing around fondly at the other elves, working cheerily to the tune of Christmas carols. It had taken some getting used to, the constant, year-round Christmas tunes. In fact, she had since instated 'Pop Culture Friday' as a means of coping with the barrage of repeated lyrics.

That, and the music tastes of Santa were decidedly stuck in the seventies. How else were the elves going to learn about Avicii, Ellie Goulding, Zedd, and the countless other amazing artists of the 00's and 10's, if not from her? So every Friday, Archie (the Workshop DJ) would play music from the 'real' world. Technically, many of these tracks were out ahead of their release dates; but Father Time had worked a little magic on her iPod for her eighteenth birthday, allowing the device to stay synced with the date of her departure from 2013. It was Elle's favorite day of the week, and it made the elves move a little faster too, counteracting the weekend wind-down of activity.

It was the little things like these; things that the others did to make her feel more at home that had helped her to adjust to life up north. It still was a bit of a shock; after giving up a promising college career (if you could call it that, exactly) and life as the eldest, most eligible daughter of a wealthy businessman. Not that she regretted it; one the contrary, she loved her new life much more, for many reasons. But the greatest reason of them all was Bernard.

Before the Clause, before she had ever come to the Pole, Ellington had had little interest in having a love life of any kind. She had preferred to read, write, study on her own. And with Jacquie, of course; sometimes her sisters. But mainly on her own. She hadn't made it a habit (like Dottie did) of keeping a boyfriend handy. She didn't need, or want to.

Then she'd come to the Pole. She and Bernard had set each other off, with how similar they were. Honestly, she never could understand the phrase 'opposites attract', even less so now, when they had fallen for each other so…well, dramatically. Of course, that had been in great part because of their circumstances. If Jack Frost hadn't messed around with their budding relationship, it was possible that they would have kept on ticking each other off until the day she left. Maybe they never would have fallen in love…but then again, there was the Clause.

The Emissary Clause. The one thing that had kept Bernard from caring for her in the first place. He stubbornly refused to see the real reason behind it, choosing to believe that it was just a trap, to catch him in an unhappy relationship that he didn't need. Or want.

She knew now how much regretted that he had pushed her away in those first few weeks. He'd told her more times than she could count…apologized, really, for everything. How he'd been oblivious to the wiles of Jack's elf, Tabitha; as she tried to elbow Ellington out of the picture by force. How he had ignored his feelings, hoping they'd go away when she did.

But Jack had intervened. For whatever reason, he had taken an interest in Ellington, and _that_ was what had gotten under Bernard's skin, in the end. Jack had sent Tabitha and driven them apart, using his wily charms (though she didn't fall for those), Nightmare dust, and the tools of several other Legendary Figures, including Father Time's pocketwatch and Cupid's arrows (ones fired by Cupid himself, even.) Despite his best efforts, or rather, in spite of them, they had somehow magnetized to each other. Broken through the barrier and become friends…for a time, until Tabitha threw her final wrench into things, and Jack had resorted to using Time itself against them.

And that had been when she had lost, and gained, everything.

It had taken about six memory relapses, four months and the Escape Clause for Sandman and the rest of the Legendary Council to realize that the memories from their little bout of time traveling were too traumatic to be permanently repressed. The strongest Amnesia dust in the world couldn't keep out the past memories – or, as it were, future memories– of who Ellington was _before_ the alternate reality, of all they had been through together trying to bring her back. The alternate reality being the one they now lived in, oddly enough. That had come as a bit of a shock; as had the memory of Phillip Connelly's terminal cancer diagnosis. Ellington was grateful for the reversal of that alone; not to mention the better fortune her family now enjoyed, with her mother cured of her illness as well, and all of them living quite happily in a big old house on East Hill in Seattle.

That life was something she, and they, only had because of one Jack Frost.

As much as she hated to admit it at times, Ellington owed a lot to Jack Frost. He _had _ended up making her life better…though, she suspected not in the way he'd originally hoped to. But his jealousy and revenge had actually bettered many things. The same was true of his eventual repentance. Of course, this was more believable before the events of the Escape Clause…and the Deliquesce, as well. But after he had been reunited with Jacquie and the rest of the Frost family, Ellington had realized that Legendary or not, Jack was very human in his emotions. He made mistakes, bad choices…and repented of them just as quickly, or slowly, depending on the situation. The fact remained, regardless of any lingering animosity Ellington still felt: he had saved her life, literally and figuratively. She owed Jack a debt that normally could never be repaid.

With the situation being as _abnormal _as it was, they were just about square.

These ideas, thoughts, reflections; whatever they could be called, were all part of Ellington's normal morning routine. It helped her remember why she was here, why she had given up her old life for this one. As out of place as they seemed, what with being quite dismal in such a happy, bright, magical place, they kept both of her feet on the ground. Firmly planted in the snow of the North Pole, beside Bernard; where she belonged.

Only, there were times when it didn't all seem as simple as that.

Because truth be told…

…It wasn't.

**Next chapter already posted. Just press that little sideways arrow for more…**


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

You Did WHAT?!

ELLENORA'S CHOICE: _Team,_ by_ Lorde_

"Goooood morning Bernard," Curtis said, emerging briskly from the bustling mass that was RDS early in the morning. "And Elle! How are you this fine morning?"

The Research and Development Sector, or RDS as it was more commonly called, wasn't where Curtis usually worked. Bernard was quick to catch this. "That's _Ms._ Elle to you," he said a bit severely. "What are you doing down here anyway, Curtis?"

Elle scowled, and elbowed Bernard hard in the side.

"OW!"

"Behave yourself," she said, equally severely. "Gosh, you act like you run the place!"

"Um, I _do," _Bernard pointed out, eyebrow raised. "And so do you."

Elle rolled her eyes, but otherwise ignored him. "Hello Curtis. If you'll notice, I am ignoring this person to my right, because he has incurred my wrath. How are you this morning?"

Curtis glanced nervously at Bernard. Elle kept a very straight face.

"I'm….good," he said eventually. Bernard was looking at Elle with an assessing expression on his face, brows knitted. Elle was steadfastly ignoring him.

Luckily, Quentin popped out from behind a nearby apparatus just before the encounter could truly be called awkward.

"'Ello, luv!" he said, flashing Elle a bright smile as he yanked off a pair of protective goggles. "What's this bloke gone and done to upset our lovely Ms. Elle this time?"

Elle raised her chin in irritation. Bernard, rather unbelievably, cringed.

"He tossed out my DVD collection," Elle said stiffly, still ignoring her fiancé. "Completely. All of my special edition DVDs… _Star Trek _and _The Lord of the Rings _included."

"WHAT!" Both Quentin and Curtis' jaws dropped. If there was one thing they knew well by now, it was that Elle treasured all things Trek and LOTR. Messing with her 'precious' collection was a big–no, _major_ mistake. And Bernard had thrown them all out?

Quentin whistled.

"I didn't mean to!" Bernard protested, his voice going a bit squeaky. "You set them under a pile of garbage! How was I supposed to know they were under all that trash?"

"That 'trash'," said Elle, stubbornly glaring ahead and _not_ beside her at Bernard, "was my pet project. It was a half finished reproduction of an ent! Does he have any _idea_ how hard it is to make an ent out of paper mache? Any at all?"

Bernard opened his mouth, but could only stammer in reply.

"No, he doesn't. And so, there shall be hell to pay," Elle said flatly, her jaw twitching slightly. Then, with a few rapid blinks, she cocked her head to one side and smiled at both elves. "Now. Where were we?"

Exchanging a look that said 'Bernard-is so-totally-screwed-right-now', Quentin and Curtis demonstrated some portable hologram devices that they had been working on together (yes, there actually _was _a reason why Curtis was in RDS so early.)

The demonstration took about half an hour. A tense half an hour, as Elle refused to talk to Bernard directly and so spoke only through Curtis or Quentin. The purpose of the demonstration was to see if the device was good enough to warrant a visit from Santa; eventually, with some difficult communication, it was deemed worthy, and an appointment was made for later that afternoon.

"Excellent work, boys," Elle said, eyes sparkling in delight as she toyed with the settings herself. "I've been anticipating holograms since I saw _Pacific Rim…_ gosh those computers were awesome. Not to mention the Neural Drift and Jaeger Tech…but I digress."

"You've seen _Pacific Rim_?" Quentin asked, slightly surprised. "I mean, I know you're into _some _sci-fi, what with Trek and all…"

Elle narrowed her eyes over at Bernard. Considering this was the most eye contact he'd gotten all morning, Bernard was encouraged…or, well, he would have been if she hadn't been giving him her notorious evil eye.

"…But I didn't know if you watched anything else." Quentin gave Bernard a pitying look. Bernard shrugged miserably, as if to say 'well, I did it to myself.'

"Oh I watch a lot of sci-fi movies," Elle said causally. "But Trek is the only TV series I'm watching."

"I see." Quentin suddenly had a rather good idea. "Say, I wonder if–"

Just then, the loudspeaker cut over. It was Archie, of course. "Would head elves one _and_ two please report to the second floor stuffing area? There's been a slight disagreement between the ribbon elves and the maintenance crew, and the electrical relays are sort of getting fried…Thank you!"

"Augh," Bernard face palmed. "They've gotten out the water pistols again."

"Good grief," Elle said, then stiffened and gave him another dirty look. "We'd better go stop them, before the circuitry gets completely toasted." She strode off towards the door. "And don't think this is going to be fun, mister!" she called back to Bernard. He had broken into a grin.

"What are you smiling about?" Curtis whispered frantically. "You're in deep water as it is!"

"Because, last time this happened she got totally soaked," said Bernard. "Imagine the response of a wet, angry cat." He smirked. "Besides, it would be a pretty good thing for her to be angry with someone besides me right now."

"Come on!" Elle hollered back, her voice echoing in the hallway.

"Wish me luck!" Bernard dashed out after her.

"You're going to need it," Curtis said with a laugh, and shook his head.

Quentin smiled after the two, crossing his arms thoughtfully. Something in Archie's tone had been slightly off…and he was pretty sure Elle was behind it.

* * *

ELLENORA'S CHOICE: _Count the Saints_, by _Foxes_

Having caught up with Elle, Bernard fell into stride beside her. "Look, can't we call this one off?" he asked, a little breathless. "I've apologized more times than I could possibly count. Besides, I replaced them!"

"As if replacing them made everything better," Elle scoffed, rolling her eyes.

"They're _just DVDs,_" Bernard said soothingly. He reached out and caught her by the arm. "Elle…"

Somehow, this seemed to enrage Elle even more. She whirled on him, glaring harder than he'd ever seen her glare at him– and they'd had their fair share of fights over the past two years. "_Just _ DVDs?" she snarled, blue eyes cold and unforgiving. "Those were mine, Bernard. From my childhood. Those DVDs were the same ones I've watched with Jacquie. With…with my family." Tears sprang into her eyes. "So, no. Those weren't '_just_ DVDs'. Those were my memories, Bernard; and you just threw them out with the trash. Like they were _nothing._" Her voice caught at the end, and she was visibly shaking; though, whether in anger or distress was too hard to tell. Bernard personally suspected it was a bit of both.

Then, clenching her fists, she stormed off, in the opposite direction of the staircase to the second story.

Bernard watched her go, speechless for once. Over the time he had spent with Elle he had learned never to just let her walk away from him, that had gone badly too many times before. But this time, he didn't know what else to do.

Elle's family had been a bit of a raw nerve, ever since that first Christmas. The Connelly's had begged their daughter to come home for the holidays, and she had meant to. It was supposed to be a part of their vacation, going down to visit her parents and to explain everything…well, everything that they could. After Elle reunited with Jacquie, they had spent some time with the Frosts in Crystal Springs. But when the Escape Clause was enacted, they had had to rush back to the Pole before they could leave Crystal Springs for Seattle. Ever since, her parents had been convinced that she was letting her work life run her, and the year after, when the Deliquesce had threatened the Polar Cap and kept either of them from leaving, had done nothing to help convince them otherwise.

It was probably true, Bernard thought ruefully. Their work did run them. It kind of came with the job in the first place: the constant micromanaging of a Workshop where something always seemed to be ready to fall apart.

But it wasn't Elle's fault. It had been like that from the beginning; he should know. And he knew that it weighed on her. He'd been the one sitting beside her silently, holding her hand while she spoke to them on the phone, trying to keep her lies straight. He had overheard Elle's parents accusing her of avoiding them, and seen her fall apart afterwards because she couldn't tell them the truth. Her family had meant more than anything to her, and without the Amnesia dust to repress her memories of a harder life– a life that only she out of her entire family could remember–Elle was torn apart by all of the lies she told them; by the growing distance between them not physically, but emotionally. Little things, like her rubber boots from home, or her sister's favorite songs, became large stumbling blocks in her day-to-day life.

Not that she would admit it. Or that Bernard would be so heartless as to point it out. But Elle couldn't quite get over the loss of her old life, or lives; and it was this elephant in the room that was keeping them from moving forward. Sure, they were elves, and had plenty of time to spare before actually getting married. But to Bernard it almost felt like they were being held back by all of the unspoken traumas in their relationship. There were even times when he felt like she was keeping something important from him, perhaps that she'd really rather go home than stay with him at the Pole. Times like this, when they fought, he was nearly positive that he was right.

All of this passed through his mind in a matter of seconds. After watching Elle storm off towards the stables, Bernard sighed and shook his head. It seemed like he would never understand that girl, no matter how hard he tried. He knew her well enough, but not how to react to her; and it was his reactions that always got him into hot water.

So Bernard headed for second story stuffing, alone. He had discovered that with Elle working alongside him, he would sometimes get these lonely pangs when going somewhere by himself. Santa had called it angst; but he understood the feeling. It was odd, the things that Scott Calvin had talked him through. Relationship things that despite his age Bernard had had little experience in and so was actually overwhelmed by.

Regardless of being overwhelmed and upset, Bernard knew the day had to carry on. Elle would be fine, she just needed a little time to cool down. So by the time he reached the correct level and place, he was almost paying attention to the situation at hand.

Almost.

Because he failed to notice the room was empty for three seconds. And that was all the time they needed.

He halted in the doorway. "Hello?"

Silence.

"Hello?" This area shouldn't be empty at that time of morning, but it was. Or…was it? Bernard could have sworn he heard someone giggle.

He took two more steps into the room… and a whole group of elves jumped out from behind pillars, toting water guns. The big, pool sized water guns.

With a cry and a whoop, they all unleashed the fury on Bernard.

"For the Shire!"

"For the Enterprise!"

"For Ms. Elle!"

Ten seconds later, the guns were empty, and Bernard was positively drenched. Imagine the damage eight water guns can do, to one unarmed elf.

One unarmed, unamused elf.

"Touché," Bernard said dryly, blinking water out of his eyes. "An ambush. I should have known."

"Hey, good morning every….woah." Santa stood in the doorway, eyeing the situation in surprise. "What's happening here?"

"Payback," Bernard said, wringing out his beret.

Half an hour later after Bernard had changed, he and Santa were completing the morning rounds without Elle. She still hadn't shown up.

"You did _what?_" Scott whistled in disbelief. "For tinsel's sake Bernard. I would have done a lot more than ambush you with water guns for destroying_ my_ Trek collection. But _The Lord of the Rings, _too? She's going easy on you."

"Sure doesn't feel like it," Bernard muttered. "And to top it off, I upset her. She went off in tears after I made a rather…thoughtless comment."

"Well, what did you say?"

Bernard told him.

"Dammit, Bernard!" Scott glared at his head elf. "What's the matter with you? How could you say something like that, after everything she's been through? You remember how Carol was when she moved up here; every little thing from her old life had sentimental value. I mean, she still has the socks she wore the day we got married!"

"Yeah, I know. Trust me, I've got the picture: it was a really dumb move. And you know I would never say anything to hurt Elle on purpose! Sometimes I just…mess up."

Santa set a hand on Bernard's shoulder. "You and me both, pal. There's a saying about relationships: 'One person is always right, and the other is the husband.' While you and Elle aren't married yet, I think it still applies. As men, we screw things up pretty good sometimes."

"Tell me about it," said Bernard miserably. "I'm just worried that one of these times, I'm going to go too far."

Scott stopped walking, and gave Bernard a keen look. "I thought you were over that whole 'I might lose her' phase you went through."

"Apparently that's the thing about phases: they come back from time to time," Bernard said. "In fact, phase may not be the correct term. 'Cycle' might be more appropriate." He shook his head. "The thing is, we've been engaged for two years now, and I feel like I hardly know her. I mean, we spend so much time together, but in some areas we're still complete strangers. It's like she's keeping me at a distance, and I don't know why. I don't know what I did wrong, or how to fix it."

"What do you mean by 'at a distance'?" Scott asked.

"I mean, for awhile–the first year, say– we kept getting closer, learning more about each other." He paused, almost reverentially. "We were in love," Bernard said quietly, "and all we could see, all that mattered, was each other."

"What changed?" Santa asked carefully. They were on the floor just above the Workshop, where a connecting hallway met the main building. For some reason, it was quiet there, and they had stopped walking.

Bernard leaned on the balustrade, looking down at the bustling elves on the Main Floor below. "At some point after the Deliquesce Threat, she just stopped wanting to talk about personal things. We still talk, but just about superficial things. Work, books, movies, what to make for dinner; anything except us. This past year, she's buried herself in the work, and we've been on the back burner. In some ways, I think her parents are right. If she's been avoiding me, and she's here _with_ me, then she really must be avoiding them too."

"Her parents said that?" Scott rubbed his face. "Well, why didn't you say so. That's the problem, Bernard! She hasn't seen her family in two years; and from what Annise told me before, they are a pretty close family. She missing mom and dad, the sisters! And spending time with you only makes her feel more guilty, so she's keeping you at a distance, like they have to be."

"But then nobody has her," said Bernard, "and then everyone loses."

Scott grew thoughtful. "Hmm. As far as I can tell, there's only one solution for this."

"What?"

Santa gave him a meaningful look.

"No," Bernard moaned. "Santa, you and I both know I can't take another Christmas off. Look what happened last time we left! I can't risk Christmas again."

"Isn't domestic peace one of the season's themes?" said Santa pointedly. "Bernard, if you don't deal with this, it's only going to get worse."

"I just…I can't!" Bernard was getting agitated. What he wasn't saying was how worried he was.

Santa could tell Bernard was holding back, but decided to let it go. "We'll talk about this again when we get a little closer to the Big Day," he said. "Now. These trains are a little dull, don't you think?"

From there the talk had been all business; which was good because Bernard hadn't had to say what was really bothering him. That it was worse than he had said, in subtle yet major ways. That maybe if he took Elle to see her family, she might not want to come back.

And worst of all: that it had been two whole years and Elle, with all of her telepathy, still didn't let him in her head.

* * *

**Here's the next chapter, as promised! If you've come here from the original TEC, welcome! Please remember to follow this story, as TEC is completed, i.e., no more notifications (unless you followed my profile, in which case, GOOD ON YA MATE!)  
**

**Well, what do you think? *wriggles eyebrows excitedly* OHHHH TINSEL BERNARD'S IN THE DOGHOUSE ALREADY…**

**Let's pause, and have a feeling's inventory on how you feel about these developments…**

**SHALL WE? ;)**

**-A.**


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Borderline Obsession

Annise Connelly had had a perfect life.

That is, until her sister Ellington went away mysteriously while the rest of the family was on vacation in Hawaii. When they'd returned on Christmas morning, they'd come home to an empty house…empty, except for a note on the kitchen counter.

_Mom, Dad; Annise and Dottie,_

_Merry Christmas! I'm sorry to leave so suddenly, but I've been offered an internship in Northern Canada that was time sensitive. Please don't be afraid I've been kidnapped or something, I haven't. I'm afraid I won't be home for a while, but I will phone if I'm able._

_I am sorry I won't be here for Christmas. Maybe next year? I'll be hoping, but the schedule is pretty rigorous and although my boss is absolutely wonderful, I'm not sure he can spare me. _

_I left your presents under the west window tree. _

_I love you guys so much, don't you ever forget that. And remember, don't worry about me! Have a great Christmas._

_Love, _

_Ellington xx_

Just like that, her sister had been gone. Sure, she called from time to time, and seemed to be alright. Even happy sounding, which Phillip and Josette were at a loss to explain.

"It's got to be a boy," Josette had insisted. "What else could have made her up and run off into the blue? Northern Canada, for God's sake!"

"She always did like the cold," Annise had offered, but her parents hadn't noticed.

They spoke to Ellington every few weeks. She said things were going well, that she had been promoted to a semi-permanent position. That had been her excuse for not coming home that first Christmas. Ellington had claimed that she had been on her way to the airport when there had been a crisis at work and she had had to cancel her plans last minute. The second year was much the same.

"Why does your place of employment always fall apart at Christmas?" Phillip has asked disdainfully. "Surely you're not that important there, that they needed to call you back."

"Phillip!" Josette had said, horrified.

"Thanks, Dad. Thanks a lot for the vote of confidence," Ellington had said dryly. "Actually, yes. I am that important here. So don't be surprised if I don't make it out next year, either."

"Ellington!" Josette had called over the phone, but Ellington had hung up.

They had made up countless times since then, but the resentment remained; because Phillip and Josette were far from satisfied with the tidbits of information she passed along. She hardly told them anything about what she did at work–she had told them it was a management position, but little more–and they worried for her safety. More than once they had asked her what she was doing up there, what was it she was so busy with that she couldn't get time off to visit her family. All she would tell them was that it was a large scale production, distributing on a global scale and she was needed a lot of the time. This far from satisfied them, but if they pressed for more details Ellington would get angry and hang up.

This was unlike the Ellington they knew, and so it only made things worse.

After a while, they realized that if they wanted to keep monitoring Ellington's safety, they would have to be content with what little she gave them information wise. This didn't always stop Phillip from having a random outburst over how Ellington should have stayed home, and he could have found her a less demanding job right there in Seattle. But Ellington insisted that she had her reasons, and they were bigger than any job offer he could have gotten her.

So Josette and Dottie decided to press about her personal life. Ellington was very open about how she spent her free time (apparently not much had changed in that regard; she still buried herself in Star Trek and _The Lord of the Rings _whenever she got the chance.) But she was vague about _who_ she spent time with, which only made her mother and sister more curious. They pressed for details about her dating life (which she insisted was non-existent; she wasn't dating and wasn't planning on dating any time soon) and her deflections only made them wonder if she was telling the truth. Not that they had anything but her word to go on, but still: they wondered.

Meanwhile, Phillip decided to take matters into his own hands. He hired private investigators to track Ellington's whereabouts up north, but they always came back inconclusive. The little bit of information she had given them was too insubstantial to go on; they needed more information, and Phillip couldn't provide what he himself didn't have.

Annise, for her part, was quiet about Ellington's absence; and since the others were so caught up in trying to discover what was really going on, they didn't notice Annise's silence. Oftentimes, she would sneak into Ellington's room and curl up in her bed. She and Ellington had always been very close; she and Dottie weren't alike enough to cotton to each other. Ellington had always been the one to stand up for her, and take time for her. Now that she was gone, Annise was easily overlooked, and she missed all of the fun she and her sister had had together. To Annise, it felt like Ellington was lost, and if she could have she would have put on her snow-coat and boots and tramped up to Northern Canada herself to look for her. But she was the youngest, and so she stayed home, went to school, and came home again, going to whatever dinners and parties her parent's dragged her off to with the heaviest of hearts. The Connelly's didn't know what else to do; so they pretended in public that what Ellington had said was true; she had a spectacular internship up north, and they weren't sure when she'd be coming home.

But the lies weighed most heavily on Annise. Why wouldn't Ellington tell _her_ the truth? Even if she kept secrets from the parents, she had always told Annise. What could possibly be so secret that she wouldn't tell her 'little confidant'?

Months turned into a year, then a year and a half. Ellington would call from time to time, and over the phone they would watch movies 'together', at the same time in both places. It was good that way, Annise supposed; as it filled the awkward silence that liked to sneak into their conversations. Ellington sounded far away (which of course she was,) but she sounded…_farther_ away, which didn't make sense. Farther than just Northern Canada. How could you _possibly _be farther away than Northern Canada?

"If only she would come home," Phillip would say thoughtfully, "we could show her that she doesn't need to go as far away as possible to be successful." Even Josette had started agreeing with her husband; no girl of nineteen needed to be braving the Northern Frontier for the sake of a business venture.

Both parents had vibrant memories of how life had been before she had left: their daughters had been the life of their parties, the belles of their circle of elitist friends, and Ellington had been the one to make her sparkle. Without her, Annise was too shy, and Dottie didn't have the courage to put on any kind of show. So for the past two years they had declined any prompts from the guests, claiming that they were waiting for Ellington's return. Which, in a way, they were.

Phillip and Josette wanted that back. They wanted their sparkly, happy, if somewhat mysterious and troubled daughter, back. They wanted to be a _family _again.

And so, like every week of the two years before, they waited for a chance to make that happen.

They waited for a call.

* * *

ELLENORA'S CHOICE: _Addicted to You_, by_ Avicii_

Elle sat on the gate of Donner's stall, pensively brushing the reindeer's coat. She was thinking about her life…which lately, always proved to be a mistake. Sure, the Workshop was running on schedule, production was booming and there hadn't been any major accidents from Curtis' neck of the woods in a refreshingly long while.

But with Bernard having destroyed some of her most treasured belongings, she didn't feel in the mood to think about how great everything was. Because that was the truth: Elle loved her life. She loved her job. She loved all the elves like younger brothers and sisters, even though they were hundreds of years older than her. She loved Santa and his family, as they had taken her under their wings and been so marvelously kind to her during her transition.

And she loved Bernard, more than she could even find words to describe…as cliché as that sounded, it was completely true. She loved him so much that she wouldn't let him into her mind, because she was afraid that he would think she was stupid for how desperately she loved him. She, Ellenora, sometime Ellington Sophia Connelly, was passionately in love with her fiancé, and it scared her to death. She was afraid of his rejection more than anything else, and that was why she didn't speak of her family.

When she had come back in time, Elle hadn't needed to save her father's life with her sacrifice anymore. She had stayed because of the Clause, and because of Bernard. She had left her family with no warning, and only rarely called them. It hurt to hear the pain in their voices when she told them she wouldn't be coming home anytime soon, for one reason or another. Whatever lie or bent truth she had to feed them to protect the S.O.S., it hurt them, it hurt her, and it hurt Bernard.

Elle knew that he felt threatened by her family. The worst part was, he was right. With two realities, two previous lives with them, only one of which they remembered, Elle had enough memories to keep her heartsick for the rest of her life. They had been so close, she and her family. Letting Bernard into the space that her sisters and parent's had once held, the space of highest priority, was too hard when she still hadn't let them go. Not to mention, she was scared to let them go. She wouldn't die. They would. She had one lifetime with them, and letting go before she had spent every last bit of that time with them seemed like the worst betrayal of all.

But as things were now, she was hurting everyone involved. Her current method was…well, illogical, if it hurt everyone she loved. So something had to change.

"But what?"

Elle jumped a little. She hadn't meant to say it aloud, but she had. Donner looked over at her, and made a questioning noise.

"Oh, it's complicated buddy," she said sadly, stroking her fur. The reindeer nuzzled at her hand encouragingly. "Really, it would take me several days to try and explain it all." Elle scowled. "The worst part is, if everything were normal, I'd watch a few episodes of Trek, or some LOTR, and the solution would come to me. What!" Donner had snorted skeptically. "It does! I can't even tell you how many great ideas I've gotten that way."

Donner made a sound something like laughter.

"Oh, so now I'm hilarious." Elle rolled her eyes, actually laughing a little herself. "Okay, maybe I _am _being a bit melodramatic." She looked at Donner thoughtfully. "They kind of are just movies, aren't they? I mean, the memories aren't stored in the discs or anything. They're in my head. In my heart." This was so obvious that Elle felt sick.

It was ridiculous that she had taken Bernard's comment out of proportion so dramatically.

"Dammit!" Elle dropped the brush and began climbing off the gate. "How could I do this to him? He must think I hate him right now!" She landed in a crouch and sprang to her feet. "I've got to find him." Before leaving, she turned and gave the reindeer a grateful smile. "Thanks, Donner. I think I would have taken a lot longer to come around if not for you." She grabbed a red bell pepper and handed it over the gate for the reindeer to eat.

Donner tossed her head modestly, and rumbled a 'you're welcome', noshing on the bell pepper with gusto.

Elle ran off, her boots clicking fast and sharp against the stone floors of the stables. She mentally probed the halls of the Workshop, and found Bernard. A few minutes later, she burst into the Pantograph Room, breathless and eyes shining. Bernard was standing beside the controls, while Santa and Curtis were over at a table. Scott watched over Curtis' shoulder as the elf made some minor adjustments to the hologram they had inspected that morning.

Seeing Elle bursting in so violently Bernard cringed a little, a worried look crowding his face. "Elle? I'm sorry for what I said earlier; I didn't mean to say that your memories weren't important. I was only trying to…"

Without waiting for him to finish Elle strode determinedly over, slid her arms around his neck, and kissed him deeply.

The other elves in the room all gave a collective 'awwww!' at the sight. Bernard stiffened momentarily before slipping his hands around her waist and returning the kiss.

Santa coughed awkwardly. "Well, that's one way to make up."

"I'm sorry," Elle said after a few moments. "I overreacted, big time. I know you didn't mean my memories were crap; I just was too emotionally invested in those copies. You were right." She laughed a little, and pressed her forehead to his. "They were _just DVDs._"

Bernard broke into a relieved smile. "So…we can call this one quits?"

"Yeah." Elle laughed again. "Yeah I think it's better we pretend this never even happened."

"Thank goodness." He kissed her lightly. "I'm not sure I could have handled another water gun barrage."

Elle jumped back out of his arms, pointing a triumphant finger at him. "Ha! I forgot about that!" She grinned. "Was it epically humiliating?"

"It was…wet. Very wet."

"Hmm. I suppose that will have to do then." Elle looked around. The elves were casting smiles at them as they walked around doing their various tasks. "Seems like everything's running well enough."

"Better than well!" Curtis chimed in, wheeling the hologram over with Scott's help. "Santa approved the hologram for reproduction!"

"Excellent!" Elle said happily. "Sounds like you've got your work cut out for you, Curtis. Good work!"

Curtis beamed, like he always did when his work was praised. Elle had long since discovered that Curtis' insecurities often stemmed from a lack of acknowledgement, so she did her best to give him little ego boosts when possible.

"Don't forget me," Quentin said, strolling into the room with a package in hand. "I would have liked to see _him_ come up with the idea for externalized laser relays to combat the distorted prismatic effect of the destabilized projectors."

Curtis scowled and crossed his arms, looking very much like Bernard.

"Yeah," said Elle in a 'so there' tone. "There's that. Kudos, Quent. You both were brilliant."

"What's that you've got there?" Santa asked, nodding at the package.

"Speaking of brilliant," Quentin said, "I thought that with Ms. Elle's other interests rather…_indisposed_, she might be interested in taking up a new show altogether." He passed her the package.

It was a series of boxes, in a clear sliding case. "_Doctor Who: The Complete New Series: Seasons 1-4," _Elle read aloud.

"There have been more seasons since I got that set," Quentin explained, "But that should get you off to a good start."

"Doctor Who," Elle said again, tapping the box. "I've heard of this. My grandpa watches this show…he's practically tethered to the Sy-Fy channel."

"My personal favorite bit of BBC television," Quentin admitted sheepishly. "I'll be interested to see if you take to it like I did."

Bernard, who had so far been watching this with a look of mild worry, groaned and rubbed his face. "Great, another thing for you to get obsessed about."

Elle unabashedly slapped his arm, hard. "Shut up. You're the one who threw out those disks, remember?"

"So much for letting it go," Santa muttered. Elle gave him a look, and he quickly changed his tune. "Though, as I said before Bernard, if it were me, I would have done a lot more than just ambush you with water guns for destroying_ my_ Trek collection."

"Exaaaactly," Elle said, rolling her eyes. She looked down at the box in her hands thoughtfully. "This is yours, Quentin?"

"Yes. Original copies," the inventor said fondly.

With a smile, Elle said, "Then I shall treat them as if they were made of gold."

Quentin laughed. "With only one exception, luv. Gold isn't good for watching. Do give these a try, won't you?"

"Um, yeah! Of course I will!"

"Good," said Quentin, satisfied. He stepped around the group and over to the hologram. "Now. Before Curtis gets all the glory, allow me to assist in the priming of the machine."

* * *

ELLENORA'S CHOICE: _Cinema,_ by_ Benny Ben__assi Ft. Gary Go_

Elle did as she had been told. That night, long after the workshop had closed and she had said goodnight to Bernard, Elle showered, got into her jammies, and dutifully plunked down in front of her TV with a big bowl of popcorn and a cup of tea to watch _Doctor Who._

She had only meant to watch a few episodes. But a few turned into three, and then four, and the tea needed an upgrade to coffee as the night wore on. She couldn't stop. Each episode was better than the one before, and Elle found herself getting more and more emotionally attached to the characters, particularly Rose…and of course, the Doctor.

My god, had anybody ever been cooler than the Doctor? All thoughts of the badassness of McCoy fled at the thought of the Doctor. This wasn't just travel through space. This was travel through space _and time,_ in a wickedly epic blue police box. LOTR started to pale in her mind, as did Trek. How has she missed this for so long? Why hadn't she listened to her grandpa? He was so right! This was the best thing since the invention of the chocolate shake! (He compared a lot of things to the chocolate shake, so that was saying something indeed. He almost worshiped the drink.)

It wasn't until a knock sounded on her door that she even became aware of what time it was. In fact, it took about eight knocks before she even noticed.

"Come in!" She finally called, eyes riveted to the screen and not budging for anything.

Bernard had been expecting her to gush about the show the next morning, but he wasn't ready for this. Elle sat in her pajamas, wrapped up in her red and green fluffy afghan and her hands clasped before her mouth. Popcorn was scattered over the sofa, and on the floor, as far as the wall the TV hung off of…as though she had thrown it at the screen. An empty coffee mug sat on the coffee table, next to the case of DVDs, where three disks were missing.

But worst of all was the look on her face. Elle was completely engrossed in the show. She didn't even notice as he sat down next to her.

"So," he began wryly, but she cut him off.

"Shhhh!" she shushed him frantically, slapping him on the arm with both hands to quiet him. "The dalek got out…their running from it now." A few seconds later, she burst out, "Run! Run! Oh my god, ruuuuunnn, Rose! Go go go go! Ackkk!" She buried her face in her hands, but then peeked back out at the screen. "She didn't make it. Oh my god, it's got Rose."

Bernard chuckled at her, and paused the show.

"NO!" Elle stared at the screen in disbelief. Then her eyes shot over to Bernard, who was grinning at her.

"I take it you like the show?" he asked.

In a split second, Elle was clawing for the remote. "Give it back, you jerkhole! I've got to know what happens! He can't lose Rose! The Doctor _can't lose Rose!_"

"Why?" Bernard asked, amused. "Why can't The Doctor lose Rose?" He held her off with one arm, using the other to dangle the remote away from her.

"Because their falling for each other, _and they just don't know it yet_! I can tell!" Elle cried, still struggling to reach the remote.

Bernard was laughing out loud by this point. Elle was tickling him, but that didn't work either. "Really? Tickling?" he laughed, tickling her back. "I thought you didn't like tickling."

Elle shrieked, and laughed at the same time." I don't like _being _tickled. I make no bones about tickling other people…especially those who keep me from my Who!" She swatted his hand away.

"Oh, so now it's _your_ Who? I thought it belonged to Quintin."

"You," Elle gasped, as they hung halfway of the sofa, "are making a heck of a lot of false assumptions right now."

"But that you didn't go to bed at all last night isn't one of them, is it?" asked Bernard.

Elle growled in her throat, and lunged again. "Give…it…back!"

"You might try a 'please'."

She glared at him for a moment, before saying stubbornly, "Never apologize to the enemy."

"I'm the enemy?" Bernard feigned an injured expression. "Really, that's a bit unfair. That TV is getting more of your undivided attention than I am. What's a guy supposed to do to get your attention, besides create a diversion?"

"I…" Elle stopped struggling, staring at him in an assessing way. "Seriously? You think I'm favoring a TV show over you?" She raised an eyebrow. "That's pitiful."

"Don't be so harsh with me," Bernard said, actually pouting. "You've been neglecting me lately. That 'pet project' of yours was keeping you too busy to notice me much."

Elle sighed. "Ugh, don't give me the puppy eyes." Dammit, she always fell for the puppy eyes. "And hey…you make it sound like you got rid of my paper mache on purpose."

Bernard tipped his head from side to side in an acknowledging way.

"You! Jealous of a tree replica made from tissue paper?" Oddly, Elle couldn't be angry. She laughed instead. "You missed me that much?"

"Well…yeah," Bernard admitted. "I mean, it's been a really busy year. We've had way less time together than we did the first year…and that's even taking into account the whole Escape Clause issue."

"I guess you're right," Elle said quietly. She stopped struggling over him and sat on his legs instead, looking thoughtfully at him. "I hadn't really thought much about it. With us working together, it seems like we're never really apart…but that doesn't mean we spend a lot of time together. If that makes sense."

"Absolute sense," agreed Bernard, sitting back up. Elle was close enough to him that when he was upright, they were only about half a foot apart. She gazed contemplatively at him, head to one side, and set one hand on his cheek.

"It still surprises me, even now," she said, "how you actually want to spend time with me. Part of me just can't seem to understand that this is all real. That you and I… that we're actually….a thing." Elle stared at her engagement ring, on the hand in her lap, with something like disbelief. "It's been almost three Christmases now, and I just can't seem to wrap my head around it."

Bernard snorted softly. "You and me both then." Elle looked up, almost hurt. "No no! Not like that!" he added quickly, setting his hand over hers on his face. "Not _ever _like that."

Elle let her breath out in a small huff. "You had me worried for a second there."

Bernard smiled confusedly at her. "Why do you still think I'm sarcastically saying that I don't want you?"

"Umm…I don't know," Elle said. "Maybe it's because it's you we're talking about here."

"I'm not _that _sarcastic," Bernard huffed. "And anyway, you should know me well enough by now to know that I would never think that."

"Well…I don't know then! I just do sometimes!" Elle snapped, but recanted. "Sorry, sorry. I just…I worry. A lot. But you know that." She looked back down at the hand in her lap, then looked up and shook her head violently. "Blargh. This is getting all weird and sentimental. I'm gonna go get ready for work." She yawned cavernously. "This is going to be a _long_ day."

Bernard watched her head off to her room with chagrin. Leave it to Elle to classify a 'moment' as 'weird and sentimental'.

Ah well. This would come up again, he figured. And anyway, it must have really bothered her, because she'd forgotten all about finishing her episode of _Doctor Who._

* * *

******Confession: this chapter is VERY true to title. I know a few of you will appreciate it. ;) Elle is about to take on yet ANOTHER fandom. Holy geez!** AHHHHH DOCTOR WHO! DOOO WEEE OOOOHH….this is the start of a BEAUTIFUL thing. Just wait till chapter three…

**OMG, these two and their issues! Seriously guys? SERIOUSLY?! Two years and you're still dancing around stuff? *snorts* Typical.**

**This is actually a filler chapter; things start to pick up soon.**

**There you have it! Let me know what you think, if you don't mind. I love reviews of all kinds (preferably nice ones.) And don't forget to fave and follow!**

**-Ana**

**PS Have I mentioned I don't own TSC yet? That's funny; last time I checked, I thought that the REAL OWNERS of an enterprise (LOL) don't usually need to write fanfiction. Silly me. #sarcasmFTW **


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The Doctor is In

_November__–_

It had taken the better part of a month for Elle to work her way through the entire collection of disks–especially after she discovered that she couldn't keep up the no-sleep regimen and work at the same time.

But by the time she'd made her way through them…holy night, was she obsessed.

At first, it was the subtle change in clothing. Elle had stopped wearing her usual dress or skirt and blouse combination, and taken to a new outfit comprised of dark blue skinny jeans, a black tank top, a black deep cut v-neck boyfriend sweater of light cotton, and over that: a dark blue pinstriped blouse with ruffled cap sleeves, left open to give the sweater the impression of being a waistcoat. With this, she wore a pair of high top, light yellow converse.

It was a seemingly nonsensical outfit, but when Qu**e**ntin saw it, he had almost squealed in delight, and had positively gushed about it being 'the best fem Ten D cosplay' he'd ever seen. This pronouncement had made Elle absolutely glow, while Bernard had stood and patiently waited for their little 'fangirling' session to end, while wondering what it all meant.

Then, it had been the extra abundance of energy. It seemed like all of Elle's responses were heightened, and she immediately leapt into action instead of carefully assessing like she normally did. And she jabbered. Oh, how she jabbered. Her entire thought process became verbal, and while it was remarkable to hear how the 99th percentile problem solved, it was also a little unnerving.

There were also the random quotes, the most annoying of which was, "Allons-y!" She would cry this before grabbing Bernard by the hand and yanking him off to another department, yelling all the while, "Run, Sally Sparrow, Run!" Then, after arriving, she would add casually, "Love from the Doctor, 1969."

It was this quote of 'the Doctor' that finally helped Bernard put two and two together.

He decided that he wouldn't make the same mistake he'd made with Trek and LOTR: acknowledging them. So he ignored Elle's Whovian trending.

Which turned out to be harder than he'd expected.

For one thing, whenever there was a problem, she incessantly whipped out a screwdriver from her jeans pocket and cried, "Sonic!" as if it would solve everything.

"Elle," Bernard would say tiredly, "That's a screwdriver. It's not going to help us fix loose rivets in the train assemblies."

"Um, this is a _sonic screwdriver,"_ Elle would protest, "And actually, it can." She frowned. "If it was a working model." She scowled at the screwdriver. "Quintin's still working on the functional model."

"Right," Bernard had said skeptically, then set about _actually_ fixing the problem; while Elle stared at the screwdriver like it could suddenly transform from a caterpillar into a butterfly at any second.

It was kind of funny, actually; she went a little cross eyed in the process.

Then, there was the thing with the TARDIS. At random intervals during the day, Elle would run off, complaining that she must have parked the TARDIS in the wrong place again. "It was right _here!_" she would cry, literally bending down halfway to point at a very particular patch of floor. Then from another jeans pocket (or her peacoat, if she happened to be wearing it; she had changed it to a medium brown color) she would pull out a shiny silver key on a string. "Bollocks. It could be anywhere in Space or Time! Now I have to go and find it." Then she'd turn and give Bernard a cheeky grin. "Half a mo." Then, she would rush off; and later, when she finally returned, she'd walk up casually and say something completely nutty, like: "Can you believe it? She parked herself halfway between Jupiter and Space Station 47 in the future. It took me 2,890 _bloody_ years to track her down. Ooh, but look! I found a banana!"

Sometimes she would be looking around as if she'd lost something, down corridors and behinds stacks of wrapped presents. Then she'd start dog whistling. "Here, TARDIS. Here, girl…oh, where'd you go this time…"

The worst part was that Quentin was just as enthusiastic, and seemed to be encouraging Elle, egging her on to higher levels of craziness. One time in particular, when he and Elle, Quentin and Abby were going to go out for dinner, Quentin greeted them with, "Hello, Doctor! And Bernard! You must be Elle's latest Companion."

"Latest? _Companion?_" Bernard had asked confusedly, and not a little put out.

But Elle had gone right along with it, looping her arm through Bernard's and grinning like crazy. "That's him."

That wasn't all. They were considering possible restaurants when Quintin commented offhandedly, "Although, it would be wise to limit our search to our dimension."

Elle immediately hopped on board. "Yes! Definitely. You DON'T want to see what our reality looks like in another dimension," she said, grabbing Bernard by the lapels of his coat and pulling him so close that they were literally eye-to-eye. She stared at him seriously. "Really. You don't want to."

This had a large dose of truth to it, though Bernard figured she was just being insane as usual (lately.)

In short, it had been a long fanatical month of quotes and impersonations.

* * *

On top of all this, Santa had brought up the issue of Elle's family again. "Don't you _ever_ tell her this," Scott had warned, "but I've been monitoring her calls. They're getting seriously suspicious, Bernard. They grill her on her whereabouts, and her father's been sending PI's up into Canada looking for her."

"PI's?" Bernard had said, wide eyed in panic.

Santa had nodded. "Her parents are worried, and rightly so. I warned you it might come to this."

Bernard had swallowed hard. "What do you want me to do?" he had asked squeakily.

"Take her home, Bernard," Santa had said. "Take her to see her family. Let her explain the secrets she's been keeping. I don't want you to lose her because those same secrets are tearing her apart."

"But…sir," Bernard had said, a bit weakly at the thought of losing Elle (for a second time), "The S.O.S... I'm not allowed to…"

"You're allowed if I say you are," Scott reassured him. "I'm telling you to do this, Bernard. It's a direct _order."_ He had given his head elf a sideways look. "Don't let me down?"

Bernard had sighed worriedly. "I'll do what I can."

He had avoided telling Elle, all this time. He knew she had mixed feelings about returning to Seattle, and he didn't want to be the one to tell her she didn't have a choice…even though, as her fiancé, it fell to him and him alone. A whole month had gone by, and he had guiltily kept his mouth shut. Perhaps this was the reason he tolerated her obsessive behavior so passively.

But one day near the end of November, something in him snapped. Maybe it was his ability to bear the guilt, or he was just especially irritated that day; but after Elle had made a particularly obsolete comment about how some malfunctioning toys reminded her of Ood on the fritz, a seething Bernard burst out, in the middle of the Workshop, "What, in the _name of Christmas,_ is _that_ supposed to mean?!"

The elves fell silent. Elle stared at him like _he _was the crazy one.

He might have been. Bernard was visibly twitching, with that intensely irritated purse to his lips and the glare that Elle had only ever seen directed at Curtis being fired at her.

This, of course, only pissed Elle off. "You wouldn't know," she said slowly, staring at him with increasing anger. In fact this only improved her tenth Doctor impression, since in that moment she very much resembled 'the Oncoming Storm'. "You see, it's all this, wibbly wobbly, wimey wimey…stuff," she said, creating a ball shape in the air with her hands. She glared back at him a moment before picking up one of the dolls and pulling something out of her pocket…only it wasn't her usual screwdriver. This was a metal tube-like thing, and when Elle pressed a button on the side, a bright blue light came out of one end. She held it to the doll, and it immediately stopped its strange erratic flailing. Then, after a few more seconds, it began operating normally.

The elves all gasped. "How did she DO that?" someone cried.

Elle took a step closer to Bernard, and held up the device in her hand. "This," she said coldly, "Is a _Sonic. Screwdriver._ Fully functional. Not that you'd _care,_" she said, casually yet cutting.

Then she turned sharply on her heel and stormed off, through the crowd of amazed elves.

Bernard glared after her a few moments, until his expression softened and he groaned and slapped a hand to his face. At the same moment, one of the smaller girl elves came up and kicked him square in the shin…which was harder than you'd think, as she was only four feet tall.

"OW!" Bernard cried, clutching his shin and hopping around (rather ridiculously) on one leg. In that moment, he looked stupider than Elle had all month with her Whovian tendencies.

"Meanie!" The elf proclaimed, pointing an accusatory finger up at an astonished Bernard. "Mo… I mean, Ms. Elle hasn't done anything wrong! So what if she's been a bit funny all month! She loves you, and you need to be NICE!"

Bernard gaped for a minute, while all the elves murmured their agreement. With a shake of his curly head, Bernard clumped off. "Elle!" He called loudly, his slight limp adding to his already exaggerated walk. The elves cleared him a path to the door. "Elle! I didn't mean…"

The elves all shot the little girl looks of approval, and gave her little claps on the back. The girl smirked and crossed her arms, staring approvingly after the retreating form of the head elf. She'd almost blown her cover, but in the end she'd done alright.

The girl was a little odd, if anyone had noticed. Her dress was decidedly mature, and a little formal: dark green velvet tied about the waist with a black ribbon, matching the heavy soled black Mary-Janes on her small feet, and a dark brown bag inset with gold was slung across her body. She was a little smaller than elves of her age; but she made up for it in looks. The girl had a pretty, heart shaped face, and hazel eyes that she now cast around the room in wonder. She'd always wondered if this place had changed much over the years; it didn't appear that it had. They'd done a good job, then, keeping things up.

"Wibbly wobbly, wimey wimey indeed," she muttered, shaking her short bob of dark curls amusedly as she pulled a maroon beret from her bag and slapped it haphazardly on her head. Then she reached into her dress pocket and took out an old, worn fob watch.

At that moment, a young elf from Engineering caught her by the arm. "Say," he asked casually, "I don't remember your name,…?"

The girl smiled. "Clara," she replied warmly, but with a note of humor in her voice. "And I'm only eleven years old."

The other elf cringed slightly. He was seven hundred and fifty two. "Sorry!" He said lightly, going on about his business.

"As you were," Clara chuckled quietly, opening the fob watch and disappearing in a puff of gold and silver sparks before anyone else took notice of her.

* * *

ELLENORA'S CHOICE: _Little Talks,_ by _Of Monsters and Men_

_Knock knock knock knock._

"Elle?" Bernard called through the door. He was standing outside of their suites. A few months after they had become engaged, Santa had suggested that they move in together. Their suites had a living room, kitchen, dining room, office, three bedrooms, and three bathrooms: one set was Bernard's, one set was Elle's and one set was for…later. After they were married. They didn't look at that room's door very often.

"Go away, jerkhole," Elle said from somewhere, most likely the living room. He could hear the TV running in the background…and almost certainly someone cried, "Run, Rose; run!"

So it was back to _Who_, then.

Bernard sighed, and leaned his head wearily on her door. "Elle, I didn't mean it…I just have _a lot_ on my mind right now, and…I took it out on you. I'm sorry."

"Nice try, horsefly," Elle said with a bitter laugh. "You _humiliated_ me in front of the _entire _Workshop. Just wait and _see_ if I let you in my room for the next _hundred years!"_

"Yeah, well. They didn't exactly let me get away with it," said Bernard with a rueful glance down at his throbbing shin.

Another little laugh. "Good." Elle sounded amused; she must have picked his mind for the details. "I like that kid, whoever she is. I don't recognize her."

"Neither did I," Bernard realized, and he knew everyone. But he decided to focus on the problem at hand. "Elle, just let me in. I've got…" He ran his fingers over an object in his pocket. A shiny, round object. "I've got something I need to give you."

"Why?" Elle asked skeptically.

"Because…there's somewhere we need to go. Together."

There was a pause, and then a sound like someone dropping a spoon and banging into a coffee table at the same time. In fact, that was exactly what Bernard figured had happened, as he heard a moan of agony and then the sound of someone limping over to the door. He pulled his head away and clasped his hands behind his back.

The door was slowly opened by Elle, who had a bit of trouble with the latch since one hand was holding a tub of peppermint bark Haagen-Dazs and the other, her right shin.

She looked up at him with a grimace on her face. "Ow."

"Tell me about it." Taking the ice cream out of Elle's hand, Bernard wrapped one arm around her and they both limped rather awkwardly to the sofa, since each had the opposite leg injured. Elle collapsed backward into the plushy red velvet, and sighed. "The spoon's somewhere down there," she said, gesturing vaguely below the coffee table. "My shin just happened to get in the way of me retrieving it."

"Hey, better your shin then your head," Bernard reasoned, reaching into his bag and pulling out a new spoon. He handed it to her. "Here."

Elle eyed the spoon warily. "Is this clean?"

"No, I keep a collection of dirty spoons in my bag." Bernard said, rolling his eyes.

"Hey, it never hurts to ask." Elle took the spoon and examined it. "So you haven't used it?"

"No. Why does this matter anyway?"

Elle shivered dramatically. "I don't share spoons with other people. Not even you," she said, countering his look of indignation. "It's just…spit. And germs, other people's germs; and whatever they ate before that, and if they even brushed their teeth that morning…just ugh." She shivered again.

Bernard crossed his arms. "So you're saying, you'll kiss me, but you _won't _eat off of a spoon I've used?"

Elle shook her head stubbornly. "Nope," she said popping the P, then making a gagging face. She stared at the spoon a moment longer before pressing it back into Bernard's hands. "I'd better not take any unnecessary risks."

"So…you're saying you don't trust me."

"No…" Elle looked away uncomfortably. That was an incredibly incriminating thing for her to have said.

With a sigh, Bernard lifted her chin. "You know what I worry about? That you may never learn to trust me." His face grew slightly weary and distant.

"I trust you," Elle protested quietly, and kissed him reassuringly. But she could almost taste the sadness in his kiss, and could feel it radiating from his mind. She pulled away. "You don't believe me."

With a sigh, Bernard shifted uncomfortably beneath her gaze. "Elle… you know I want to. But the evidence is plain as anything. You don't trust me; not with the things that matter."

"What is this, CSI Elfsburg?" said Elle sharply. "Evidence indeed. We're supposed to be fighting anyway. You _publicly_ humiliated me!"

"I already APOLOGIZED for that!" Bernard said a bit too forcefully. Elle shot him a look. "Sorry. I am sorry about that." He cupped her face gently. "But Elles, we can talk about figures, and, and quotas, and projected completion dates all day, and sometimes you don't even tell me that your parents called!" said Bernard. Elle's reaction was immediate: her face closed off, and she tensed.

"You don't always need to know when my parents call," she said stiffly, pulling away.

"Excuse me? Yes, I do! I'm half of this relationship, Elle!" The tone of the conversation was escalating rather quickly.

"You just _had _to go and turn this into something about my parents, didn't you? I shouldn't have let you in." Elle scowled, and got up off of Bernard's legs in a bit of a huff.

Bernard immediately rose, and began to follow her. "Elles? Elle!"

She ignored him completely, heading for the kitchen.

"Ellenora!" he said in a commanding tone. Bernard was really the only one who ever used her elvish name. Most everyone still referred to her as Ellington, or simply Ms. Elle. As it was, it made her rather angry to hear him use it as a means of controlling her; he, as Head Elf, could command attention from any elf by using their full name, and he was clearly making use of that rule now.

Elle whirled angrily, making him stop short in surprise. Her face was contorted in rage. "WHAT, oh Mr. High and Mighty?" she demanded. Even the sparkles on her cheeks seemed to twinkle in anger. "Do you want me to tell you? That I don't want you around when I talk to my parents sometimes?"

Bernard felt like he'd just been punched in the gut.

"I don't know what you want me to _confide _in you," Elle went on, poking him roughly in the chest. "But my family doesn't even know you exist. They don't even know I'm _engaged!_ And how do I tell them that, Bernard, hmm? Without giving everything away? You tell me."

Bernard (wisely) said nothing.

"I can't!" Elle cried bitterly. "I can't. See, I don't have any picturesque story to tell them, of how we fell in love. How you, won me over. How _you proposed._ You didn't even have to propose, Bernard! And you wonder why I doubt that you even want me." She let her hands fall at her sides and took a step back.

"I don't want you there because I feel the guilt of that enormous lie a thousand times more when you're sitting there next to me, as real as anything. When I _have _fallen in love with you in the craziest, most _insane_ way I can think of…and with the most confusing, magical back-story anyone could have thought up." Elle stared at Bernard, eyes bewildered. "How can I feel all that, and hold it back from the people I love most in this world, this reality? Or any other, for that matter."

Bernard frowned, his eyes darkening. "And how do you expect me to not worry about you the rest of the time, when you're so obviously upset, and I don't know what happened? When I can't fix it?"

"Bernard, it's not your _job_ to fix me." Elle looked at him in shock. After a look of irritation crossed her face she turned and went into the kitchen, without another word to dilute the coldness in the air between them.

Bernard sighed exasperatedly, and followed her. "Elle, why do you have to be so overdramatic about things, you know? It leaves me no choice but to do things that hurt you."

Making a distinct effort _not_ to look at Bernard, Elle set about making more coffee…rather violently, it seemed; she was slamming things a bit harder than was really necessary. "I_ am not_ so overdramatic!" she exclaimed, flicking the faucet on and washing out her mug. "This is life, Bernard; this is what we're actually dealing with. I for one didn't expect my love life to be so complicated– if I ever _got _a love life, which I wasn't planning on, mind you. After being reported in Forbes' "Fifty Heirs Most Likely to Make a Future Power Couple", I wasn't really keen on it. They paired me with a freaking Kennedy, for Tinsel's sake! Unbelievable." She paused mid rant, then turned and pointed at Bernard with a bubbly scrub brush. "By the way, don't think I didn't notice you just quoted Kermit the Frog on me. I am _not_ Miss Piggy."

Bernard feigned an innocent look. Elle scowled and went back to washing.

"My family is the one thing that keeps me looking back, B," she said. Her voice had softened as she scrubbed almost thoughtfully at the mug. "If it weren't for them, I think I could have moved on and we'd be somewhere…somewhere different." She stared out the kitchen window at the square below.

"Somewhere _different_?" Bernard asked gently, coming behind her and removing the brush from Elle's hands. Then he wrapped his arms around her middle, and set his chin on her shoulder.

Elle sighed, and leaned her head against his. "You know," she said quietly, "Judy must have asked me a thousand times now if we've set the date." She looked down at the bubbles clinging to her engagement ring. "And she's not the only one, either. Carol, Abby, half the elves in the Workshop. I never know what to tell them."

"You remember what I told you?" Bernard murmured soothingly in her ear.

"That we can take as long as we need, there's no rush to our getting married, and that whenever I'm ready, you'll be ready," said Elle. She leaned back into his arms. "It's the perfect thing to say; and I know that with my heart in two places I'll need the time….only sometimes….sometimes I wish…."

"That we could just go ahead anyway," said Bernard. Elle nodded silently. "Elle, you've said it yourself: your heart is in two places. I don't want you to feel like I've trapped you up here, away from your family. Only," he laughed a little, "I think you already do."

"I DO NOT!" Elle cried, whirling around in his arms to glare at him. "Take it back."

"Okay, okay," Bernard said, still laughing. "I take it back."

"I'm here _because_ of you, not because you won't let me leave," Elle corrected. "Hell, if I wanted to leave, I'd like to see you try and stop me."

"Been there, done that," said Bernard, rolling his eyes. Elle frowned at him. "What! I'm just saying."

"It's my parents who think I'm being held hostage up here," said Elle ruefully. "I don't blame them really; I've given them so little information to go on these past two years that they're about ready to send the FBI across the Canadian border to hunt for me."

"They wouldn't have much luck," said Bernard.

"Which would only prove their point even more," Elle argued. She sighed. "They know something's not right; and no matter what I try and tell them they won't believe the simple fact that I am _fine._"

"Just _fine_?" Bernard asked pointedly.

Elle smiled softly, and setting on hand to his cheek, kissed him. "I'm _wonderful_. But that only makes things more difficult. I'm happy here, without them, and they know it; which raises a hell of a lot of questions. I can't tell you how many times Dottie and my mom have barraged me with questions about my love life. Ugh." She made a face. "As if I would tell them, anyway."

Bernard thought for a moment. His conversation with Santa earlier that week came to mind. "What if," he said slowly, "And this is only a theory, mind you… what_ if_ we told them the truth?"

"Oh, pffff." Elle waved him off. "Don't be ridiculous." She took a closer look at his expression. "You're not _serious?"_

"Yeah, I am," Bernard said. "What if we just, told them everything. About you, and me, us. About what you _really _do at work."

"Bernard, don't be a tease," Elle chastised. "You know as well as I do that the S.o.S. keeps us from telling any mortal about the true location of the Pole, the existence of elves, or the whereabouts of Santa."

"Santa told his In-laws," Bernard pointed out. "And believe it or not, no elf has ever been taken from a _family_ before. I don't expect there are any rules about what to tell them or not."

"I…" It took Elle a moment of frantic thought before realizing Bernard was right. "I suppose so…"

"What if we took a trip to visit your parents," suggested Bernard. "I know we meant to during our vacation, but for obvious reasons that didn't work out."

"We can't leave the Pole now," said Elle, pulling out of his arms as if to dismiss the subject. "Christmas is in 27 days, and we can't leave Curtis in charge again."

"We could leave Quintin in charge," Bernard offered. "He's got better management skills than Curtis by far. I'd actually feel okay about putting him behind the reins for a while."

"How long is 'a while'?" Elle was going about making coffee again. She poured some of the grounds into the machine and took a moment to savor the smell of the roast before closing the compartment.

"Oh, a couple of weeks. Say, December?"

Elle laughed out loud. "December, right. The one month when the crap hits the fan, every time. Why not go out of town then?" She shook her head.

"It's the best time," said Bernard insistently. "Your family might understand better during the holiday season. Our magic is stronger then."

"I thought that if we left the Northern Regions we would revert to human form anyway." Bernard had told her this the last time they had planned on making the trip to Seattle.

"For a while," Bernard explained. "But every elf reverts to true form on Christmas Eve."

"Oh. Great, so my family can freak out as I sprout some pointed ears and a shimmery glow," Elle quipped sarcastically. "I'm sure _that _will make everything _perfectly clear."_

Bernard watched her expression carefully. "You say that like you don't want them to know you're an elf at all."

With a sigh, Elle said, "Telling them I'm engaged is one thing. Telling them that I've switched species is something else entirely."

"Elle, they have to know. Otherwise they won't understand the rest of it."

"Why not?"

"Because," Bernard said with a sigh, "they won't understand how you work at Santa's Workshop if you're not an elf."

"You make telling them sound so simple," Elle muttered. "Yet I know when it comes to it, they'll freak out on me."

"No they won't," Bernard soothed, but Elle just laughed again.

"You don't know my family. My father refused to admit there was such a thing as a lint roller until he became a business man. He used duct tape for the first three months!"

"Duct tape…" Realization crossed Bernard's face. "So that's why you used duct tape to get glitter of the Naughty and Nice Center consoles. They're still doing that, by the way; to keep the buttons clean."

"Yeah, well, imagine that man's reaction when he finds out that his daughter became an elf."

"So that she could marry an elf," Bernard added, with a panicked look.

Elle gazed contemplatively at him. "Yeah…it kinda is your fault, isn't it?"

This did nothing to relieve Bernard's worries. Instead, he looked more frantic.

"We'll go when the time's right," Elle told him. "For now, I'm gonna have some coffee, and finish this episode of Who before lunch break is over. Feel free to join me if you like." Grabbing her now full mug of coffee, Elle kissed him lightly on the cheek and left him standing there, not a little freaked out.

What if her family blamed him, for keeping her away?

Oh no, Bernard realized with horror, they _definitely _would.

* * *

Unfortunately for Bernard, this changed nothing. He had his "orders" from Santa, so whether he wanted to or not he couldn't put off the family dilemma any longer…regardless of where the blame would lie when he finally met them.

"Elles, wait." With a deep sigh, he followed her out into the living room. "You're kinda missing the point here. I know we've been putting this off, but we can't. Not anymore."

Elle turned around, confusedly. "What do you mea…"

Bernard was pulling something out of his pocket.

"Bernard," Elle said warningly, the mug shaking a little in her hand. "Now, we just talked about this…"

He held it out to her. "Come on. Take a look."

Elle almost turned and stormed back to the couch, but something seemed to change her mind. She simply _had_ to know what was in Bernard's hand. So she set the mug down on a nearby table and came forward, cupping Bernard's hand in her own. "What is it?" She asked, looking at him wide eyed.

A small smile crept onto his lips. Without a word, he tipped the contents into her palm.

It wasn't small, and thin like she'd expected. It was large, and heavy; smooth and cold. Metallic. It took up the entire space of her palm. From between her hand and Bernard's, Elle could hear a faint ticking.

She gasped, and covered her mouth with one hand. "No," she said, giving him a look of disbelief. Bernard broke into a grin. "You didn't!"

"See for yourself," he said wryly, pulling his hand away and setting it under hers.

Elle stared in fangirlish awe.

In her hand was a working copy of the Doctor's fob watch, complete with Gallifreyian etching and chain loop.

Clasping it in both of her hands (and letting Bernard's drop in the process,) Elle did a little dance of glee (it involved hopping from toe to toe, believe it or not.)

"Do you know how hard I looked for real versions of this online?" she gasped excitedly. "Quintin was busy with the screwdrivers –which are _totally awesome_, don't get me wrong– but I couldn't…" She gave Bernard a look of complete wonder and amazement. "Where did you GET this?"

Bernard crossed his arms triumphantly. "Where do you think?"

"No," she said again, giving him a sideways smirk that was very reminiscent of the Tenth Doctor. "B, you didn't. You didn't!"

"You like it?" Bernard asked with an eager look in his eye.

Elle responded by flinging her arms around his neck in a massive hug. "I'll take that as a yes," he laughed, burying his face in her curls.

"It works! It _actually _works…well, I suppose it's not _too_ hard to make a fob watch tick," Elle said energetically, pulling away to gaze at the watch again, "but one of this kind of accuracy…I mean, that looks like the real thing!"

"Look inside," he said, taking her hands in his own and popping open the top.

The TARDIS was etched into the top of the lid, the lines having been welded blue somehow so that it was a very accurate model. The words _Police Box _were clearly visible, as well as the entire contents of the plaques on the door.

"How did you do it?" Elle said in wonder. "The words are so _tiny…_" She squinted at the miniscule text.

The display was exactly the same though; but it was ticking. "Does it do anything?" Elle asked, with a mischievous look at Bernard.

He grinned, "Well," he said, "it can't exactly take you through Space and Time, but it _can_ take you from one place on Earth to another." He watched Elle's expression of excitement with absolute joy. Nothing could have made him happier than giving her the perfect gift.

Elle grew thoughtful. "But you and I can teleport."

"Not if we're in human form."

She looked up at him knowingly. Bernard gave her a small smile. "It _is_ the right time, Elle."

Elle sighed. She had wanted to postpone for as long as possible, knowing how difficult it would be. But having told Bernard that and seeing he _still_ insisted that she needed to face her fears told her that something was wrong. "Did Santa put you up to this?"

"No," Bernard scoffed, waving her off carelessly.

Elle gave him a dubious look. "Your voice cracked."

Bernard raised his eyes to the ceiling innocently. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said, his voice cracking again. He looked down and knitted his brows, rubbing at his throat as if his vocal chords were misbehaving (they were.)

"It's your tell," Elle said, waving a chastising finger at him. She sighed. "So he did. Fantastic." She scuffed halfheartedly over to the table, picked up her coffee, and went to throw herself into the sofa cushions.

This was hardly what you would call good news.

Bernard looked at her, and sighed. Then he came and sat down beside her, pulling her into his arms. He kissed the top of her head. "I'm coming with you, you know. I'll be right there with you the whole time."

Elle sighed, and leaned her cheek against his shoulder. "No offense, Bernard; but that's kind of what I'm worried about."

* * *

**If I told you that I owned that exact cosplay outfit Elle has, would you believe me?**

**I own that exact cosplay outfit Elle has. For real!**

**Okay, I'm in a terrific mood from CS today, and I had this ready so I'm just went ahead and posted it. This was for **_**SafyreSky, **_**my buddy who is stuck at home and not feeling so hot. A hat-tip to her****for the invention of CSI Elfsburg. You rock! :D Also, for **_**WinterFrost15,**_** who is as enthusiastic about WHO as I am. This chapter didn't have Jack in it, but! The next chapter will. **

**SO MANY WHO FEELS….OMFG. BERNARD MADE HER A FOB WATCH. I WOULD MARRY ANY GUY WHO MADE ME A FOB WATCH, LIKE, ON THE SPOT. Plus: Elle and Bernard are going to see Elle's parents? And who was that little elf girl that kicked Bernard in the shin, hmm? *wriggles eyebrows* Does Elle REALLY have a TARDIS of her own? So many questions… ;)**

**Note: Elle has only watched seasons 1-4 of Doctor Who, so no Eleventh Doctor…yet *sobs* yeah, he's the best. Just wait till she finds out…;)**

**All mistakes are my own (Dangit!) And I'm afraid this chapter has a lot of Bernora fluff in it. Ah well! Enjoy it, if you will.**

**I'm coming down with a bug, and had to spend the day in bed today (it seems to be a bad week health wise for FF authors…three of my friends on here are DFTC.) Ugh. Nausea is the WORST, I tell you what. BUT! I got a new tablet over the weekend (which I may have named the TARDIS o.O,) so updates should become more frequent, as long as I'm able to keep up with the chapters (I'm currently three chapters ahead, as of print.) Here's to hoping! ****And happy mid-Christmas! *gives out cookies and chilled eggnog* **

**Reviews and such are much appreciated!**

**-Ana**


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

It's Where My Demons Hide

_**Leave it to my idiot blonde sister**__, __Ellington had thought, stomach clenching in anger at her sister's recklessness. Maybe she and Dottie didn't always get along, but Ellington loved the 'idiot blonde', and was as fiercely protective of her as she was Annise. Their family's past had ensured that, but..._

_As soon as she thought that, Ellington's body went rigid. She couldn't think about the past. Her past. Her family's past. The unspeakable trials they had been through, as a family, while Dottie had lived in her own little happy world at her mom's…_

_Even before the cancer. _

_There was a reason her family had left Washington._

_**FROM The Emissary Clause, Chapter 3**_

* * *

ELLENORA'S CHOICE: _Demons, by Imagine Dragons_

Two days later and Elle was still refusing to give Bernard a straight answer as to whether she would go; but it was apparent that it was weighing heavily on her mind. She was much quieter than usual, and her Whovian quotes all but ceased. It was a little unnerving, after the constant stream they had all been experiencing over the past month, but she claimed to have a headache—in fact, she _always _had a headache, which was never a good sign.

Being as highly telepathic as she was came with a few side effects, Elle had learned. In big crowds, the thoughts and emotions of so many people could be overwhelming, so that sometimes she would freeze up, or become very disoriented from hearing so much at once in her head. A similar thing could happen in the Workshop; with so many bodies working in one building, the neural load could be a bit much for a brain as sensitive as hers. Over time she had learned how to block out all but the thoughts she wanted to hear, but when she was stressed, this became difficult, and sometimes not possible at all. As it was, with her family being the issue at stake, she was completely distracted, and so she had been suffering from a low grade migraine for the past two days…which didn't help things.

In addition to this, the nightmares had returned. Of course the nightmares had returned; taking on a more personal subject than ever. Of all the things that could come back to haunt her, it had to be the one thing that had happened in both of her timelines; the one thing that had still been as awful in the alternate reality as it had been in the original.

And it wasn't something she was about to share with Bernard. Not now.

Elle had woken up screaming in the middle of both nights. She had felt Bernard trying to see if she was alright, knocking frantically on the door to her room (and her mind.) But the dreams had disturbed her so much that she just put up her walls, and retreated into herself; she had locked her door, and mentally restricted teleport into her room.

She had locked Bernard out.

She had never locked Bernard out.

But she knew he would ask her what she had dreamed of, and she wouldn't tell him. No, she _couldn't_ tell him.

Of course, being the Bernard he was, he had meant to approach her hesitantly the next morning; but Elle had anticipated this. So instead of finding her in the kitchen making breakfast and already sipping her second cup of coffee while listening to Lorde (she was a MAJOR Lorde fan) or some other modern singer, he found a cold dark kitchen with the coffee machine unplugged and no breakfast.

Talk about bachelorhood flashback.

So things had grown a little awkward between them, just when she could really have used his support. Sometimes, Elle really hated how stubborn she was; hated how she always had to be the first person to pull away. But she didn't know what else to do. Two years of engagement or not, she still was far from used to sharing her problems with others, even Bernard. Even thought that was exactly what she really wanted to do: tell Bernard everything.

And of course, like it always did when the two head elves were out of good graces with each other, elf morale went down: 37 percent, to be exact.

Elle, for her part, was in a terrible funk. Having to deal with her family was NOT what she had had in mind for her first smoothly running holiday season, but something always came along, didn't it?

Unfortunately, this meant that Elle spiraled down into her old habits, from before she had come to the Pole. This involved shutting people out, and retreating inwardly, into an inner sanctum of her own making, where she could be perfectly miserable and not have to bother with anybody.

Going home was absolutely the worst thing she could do right now. The nightmares aside, she was in no place to have to explain everything to her family. She didn't want to face them, or their problems, especially not at Christmas; and especially not when Santa insisted Bernard go with her. If she were going on her own it would have been difficult enough, but Bernard too?

The bottom line was she flat out didn't want to go home.

But she was going to have to anyway, and coming to terms with that was not the easiest thing.

It was a pretty good thing then, that her best friend was due for a visit.

* * *

It was the middle of Thursday afternoon when Jacqueline Frost appeared in Elfsburg. She and her older brother (who just so happened to be THE Jack Frost) were due at the North Pole for their Winter Inspection, something new instituted after the 'incident' last December. So they had popped in to meet up with Santa and Mrs. Claus, do a quick walk around the premises to ensure everything was properly maintained to their satisfaction, and then have dinner with the Clauses and both of the Head Elves. Although happy to see the couple, Jacqueline was especially anxious to see Elle.

Several elves jumped and gave little shouts at their sudden appearance, but were generally happy to see them. "Hello, Ms. Frost, Mr. Frost!" A few called cheerily.

"Hello to you too!" said Jacqueline, smiling at the elves as she brushed residual snow dust from her teleport off her dark blue dress.

"Ola, compadres," Jack said suavely, straightening out his suit coat and grinning around at the surrounding town. "Ah, Elfsburg. City of the little people." Jacqueline elbowed him hard. "OW! Well, pardon me for speaking the truth."

"Speaking your mind, is more like it," said Jacqueline, but she too was smirking a bit at Jack's comment. Her brother always made such fusses about the size of elvish furniture, houses, meal portions…everything. But it was still funny, because he meant it in a light hearted and completely non-hostile way.

Since the Deliquesce had been resolved, all faith had been restored in Jack Frost and his sister-Legate. Not to mention, everyone knew how Jacqueline and Elle were friends, and seeing the sprite appear when the number two was in such a depressed state was absolutely heaven sent.

Jacqueline, having a slight mental tie-in with Elle, knew that something was terribly wrong. And, she figured, it had been too long since she had taken her friend for a girls' day out.

Making their way through the familiar streets and town square, Jacqueline and Jack made their way through Elfsburg, commenting on the year's decorations and generally sightseeing. Eventually they came up the steps of the Workshop.

"Toasty in there," Jack murmured, creating his own personal sphere of frosty air.

Jacqueline rolled her eyes. "Adjust a little, will you?" she said, not bothering with her own cloud of cold. She always found the Workshop very cozy, and she didn't feel like intruding on that charm. "Still, nice snow-globe."

Jack shrugged. "It's…it's you know, I like my own aura of chill," he said modestly, his voice going a little high the way it did when he was actually proud of something.

Upon entering the Workshop, it was immediately apparent that something was wrong. The floor was buzzing as usual, but things didn't feel as upbeat as they normally did. Reaching out with her magic, Jacqueline could tell that it was not only from a lack of Elle's encouragements, but from a mutual sadness for her dejected state. The elves knew that something was bothering Elle; she felt, and they knew it was something even Bernard couldn't fix.

"Something's…odd," Jack said, gazing around with a look that said he sensed much the same thing.

With a huff of anticipation, Jacqueline said, "Don't mention it to Santa. I want to see if he brings it up."

"Yes, ma'am," Jack said huffily, crossing his arms offendedly.

Jacqueline shot him a look."Jack, can it. I think this is about Elle, which makes it important, okay? So just chill out."

At mention of Elle, Jack grew serious. "This is about Elle?" He looked around again. "Yikes."

"Exactly."

Jack grew a little bit darker. "If this is Bean-head's fault…"

"I don't think so," Jacquie said.

"Hmm." Jack didn't seem convinced. "We'll see."

Together, the Frost siblings made their way through the Workshop, Jacqueline doing her best to spread a little magical cheer of her own as she went. There was a noticeable change in the aura of the room, and she smiled to herself happily as she looked around for her friend…finally locating her in the Naughty and Nice Center.

"Boo!" Jacqueline said, sneaking up on Elle and setting two icy hands on her friend's shoulder. Normally, Elle would have known she was there already by telepathy; but this time, she nearly jumped out of her skin.

Something was definitely wrong to be messing with Elle's telepathy that much.

"GAH!" Elle cried, dropping a panel and whirling around in surprise. Apparently, she had been repairing something on the giant globe, but now her blue eyes were wide with fright. "Rassilon's beard, Jacquie!" She clutched at her heart, and doubled over, breathing heavily. "You scared me half to regeneration!"

Jacquie frowned. "Half to what? And why are you wearing banana yellow converse?"

Elle sighed, and stood up. "Half a mo," she said, and turned back to the machine. She took out a silver tube-like device that Jacquie had never seen before, and held it to the operating panel. It made a strange buzzing sound for a moment, then she shut it off and pulled away. "There," Elle said, and flipped the machine on.

"And the world just keeps on spinning, every day, every year, on and on…till the end of its time," Elle mused. Both friends stood silently and watched the globe make a few perfect rotations.

"Why are you here?" Elle asked quietly, both hands in the pockets of her jeans. Jacquie looked at her and narrowed her eyes thoughtfully.

"Winter Inspection," said Jacquie with a shrug. "Also, I heard the Cafeteria was serving Frosties today. Thought we'd pop in."

"We?"

Jack stepped up onto the platform grinning. "Well, if it isn't the infamous Ellington," he said, and swept her into a giant hug.

"Liberties, Jack!" Elle screeched, as Jack lifted her up and twirled her around. But she laughed a little. "And it's Ellenora now."

Ah, right. The re-naming of a perfectly well named person for no apparent reason," Jack said sarcastically. "I MEAN, the elven re-naming tradition. Of course." He set her down and gave her a serious sideways look. "Now. You're upset. Is it Mr. Grumpy Pants' doing?"

Elle's face clouded, and she looked around. "Not here," she said, and cast a look at Jacquie.  
"Not now. Later." She nodded towards where Santa, Carol and Bernard were coming up onto the platform.

"Jack! Jacqueline," Santa said, arms wide in greeting. Carol was smiling beside him. "It's so nice to see you two again."

"And you! Santa, Carol." Jacquie hugged Carol, while noting the unspoken conversation that was going on between Bernard, who seemed a bit wary of Elle's space, and Jack, who was glaring not too subtly at the head elf, apparently not convinced that he wasn't to blame for Elle's bad mood.

Bernard steadfastly avoided Elle's gaze, while glaring daggers back at Jack almost defensively.

Santa caught sight of what was going on between the two immortals. "A-HEM!" He crossed his arms and looked at them both. "Can we stop the testosterone battle now, boys?"

"Santa," Jack said lightly, even though he was still staring at Bernard. "How have things been up here?"

"Ah, not bad. Couple of kinks now and then, but nothing these two can't handle!" Santa clapped Elle on the shoulder, then Bernard. Elle flinched a little. "Now. Let's get on with the rounds, shall we?"

"Then off to better things," Carol said with a smile.

They had set off as a group. Jacquie was a bit surprised to see that Elle was walking next to Mrs. Claus, on the farthest side away from Bernard, instead of beside him like she normally did. This was another bad sign, and she couldn't help but wonder if Jack was right in suspecting Bernard had screwed something up.

After a while though, Elle and Jacquie fell behind the rest of the group, moving to walk side by side.

"What was that?!" Jacquie asked, meaning the tension.

Elle jiggled the device in her hands. "Sonic screwdriver," she said simply.

"Sonic what?" Jacquie said, confused. "And why are you dressed like that, anyway? I thought you weren't big on wearing jeans. Something about distracting Bernard."

Elle looked down at her outfit, and her face brightened a little. "I'm the tenth Doctor," she said fondly.

"Um, Doctor _who?_" asked Jacquie, still not getting it.

"Exactly."

Jacquie stared at Elle in utter bewilderment.

"Doctor WHO," Elle repeated, with a meaningful look. She lifted the sonic screwdriver, and turned it on. "Allons-y?"

Still, nothing.

"I have a fob watch, if that rings any bells…" Despite her expectant look, Elle was getting nothing from Jacquie other than a stare like she was completely crazy. "Oh, for Ood's sake!" Elle marched down the hall, thoroughly peeved. They were now so far behind that she could do so for quite a length and not catch up.

Jacquie shook her head. "Oh, boy. I've been away too long, haven't I? But that wasn't what I meant anyway, and you know it." She ran up to Elle and grabbed her by the arm, stopping the elf in her tracks. "Elle, what is going on?"

"What do you mean?" Elle said, feigning innocence.

"Oh, come on Elle! Bernard's practically afraid to look at you; Santa seems guilty, and all the elves are feeding off of your depression! What is going on? And no funny business, either."

Elle observed Jacquie's serious expression a moment, then sighed and put away the sonic. Her eyes grew stormy, and she looked at her friend with no small amount of mixed emotions. Jacquie could see anger, hurt, protectiveness, sadness; just to name a few. What was more, she could feel them radiating from her friend's mind, like blood gushing from a wound.

"Jacqueline? Elle?" Having finally realized they were missing, Santa and the rest of the group had turned back to look at them. "Do we have a problem?"

"No," Elle said flatly, and sped up her pace to catch up. "We're fine."

Jacquie reluctantly followed her friend, unconvinced but trying not to show it.

* * *

The Polar Ice Cap was their main concern, what with everything that it had been through in the past few years (but especially the past year.) It was thoroughly checked for flaws; tapping, scraping, and a mental scan of functioning magic was performed by each of the cryokinetic sprites. Fortunately, Jack and Jacquie's last freezing over had held wonderfully, with not a sign of cracking or fading. The luminance of the Northern lights flickered like a rainbow from within the ice, fluctuating at a normal, healthy rate; and the light coat of frost that kept the ice from melting was holding at just the right temperature.

"The Pole's magic is fully stabilized," Jack pronounced, and the group burst into a round of applause as the two siblings bowed and grinned happily, Jack with a bit more pomp than his sister, but not more pride. Jacquie was happy to prove herself as Jack's legate, as well as her own, frosty self.

"Legendary status, here I come," Jacquie said, dusting snow from her hands. Jack gave her a light punch in the arm. "OW!"

"What's the matter, can't handle a little competition from your little sister Jack?" Santa said good-naturedly.

Jacquie smirked.

"Au contraire," Jack said smugly, crossing his arms. "I just don't want her to get ahead of herself. _Someone_ still has to pass their final M.E.L.T."

"Oh, pfff," Jacquie said, waving him off. "Puh-lease. That cat's in the bag, Jack." She raised her shin and looked at him with a haughty air. "You're just getting nervous. I'm catching up."

"Nervous? Bah," said Jack dismissively. But there was a worried look on his face. "I hardly have to worry about a little flurry like you catching up to me," he joked. "I am—"

"THE Jack Frost," All the others finished tiredly. Jack gave them a startled look, with quickly morphed into an unamused one.

"Fine, be like that," he said. The others burst out laughing, and he eventually joined in.

They all headed back to the Workshop, where they had a fine dinner together. Jacquie offered Elle the chair to her left, on the farthest side away from Bernard. Elle caught on quickly, and shot her friend a grateful look before sitting beside her silently.

Elle didn't talk like she normally did during the meal. Elle could light up a table with laughter when she wanted to; and she often did. But instead, she sat silently, smiling faintly when a joke was made or responding politely if a question was asked. Jacquie had seen her act this way before, back when they had both been living in the human world together; but she hadn't seen this kind of behavior since they'd come North. It worried her.

Nor did it help that Jack kept shooting Bernard dirty looks every now and then when Santa wasn't looking. Over the past year since the events of the Deliquesce Threat, Jack had become rather protective of Elle, in a good way. Jacquie had once made a comment about Elle being as close to a sister as you could get without being blood, as they had lived in each other's houses most of Elle's growing up. It seemed as though Jack had taken this to heart, as well as inserted himself into the equation as a sort of big brother figure. This was hardly the first incident; numerous times when Elle and Bernard had fought, he had taken Elle's side completely and had given Bernard hell in her defense. It seemed he was bent on doing the same thing now.

Bernard usually held his own in these tiffs, but this time he seemed surprisingly guilty; even though he shot back quite the glare each time Jack started a stare down. Jacquie could tell that he was genuinely concerned, and she was sure Jack could see it too, even if he was a little reluctant to admit it might not be Bernard's fault.

Santa, for the most part, ignored the unsettled air between Jack and his head elf; instead making conversation as though nothing were wrong. Which was strange; Scott was usually the first to notice something was off, and bring it up. That told Jacquie something else: Santa KNEW what the problem was, and he wasn't getting involved.

Scott and Carol were always in on whatever Elle and Bernard were fighting about. It was a pattern; Elle talked to Carol, Bernard went to Scott for advice, and both Clauses always tried to get the two elves to make up. It would have to be something very, very serious, that they both were sitting this one out.

Which was…a disturbing idea, to say the least.

So disturbing, in fact, that after dinner Jacquie announced that she and Elle had some business to attend to. "She needs to show me what progress she's made with her telepathy," she explained. Scott and Carol had exclaimed that that was a wonderful idea, while exchanging looks that said they knew something else was in the works.

Jack was busy glaring at Bernard. "And Bean-head and I need to have a little _talk,"_ he said, almost menacingly. Bernard rolled his eyes as though he really didn't give a damn; but he still looked a bit nervous all the same.

"Yeah, good luck with that," Jacquie said dubiously, while passing a mental note to Jack to let her know if he found anything out.

_Will do, _came the response. _But you should hope for his sake that he doesn't have anything to do with this. _

_Jack…_Jacquie warned. But she could feel that Jack wasn't going to do anything too terrible to Bernard, other than give him a reminder of why he needed to watch himself. Which would have been pretty funny to observe, actually; but Jacquie had things to deal with herself.

* * *

**CRAPSTORM ALERT CRAPSTORM ALERT! ELFCON ONE! SEND HALP QUICK!**

**Thanks for all of your reviews and support, guys! I've been sick flat on my back all week, so this didn't get updated as soon as I would have liked. Sorry for the delay! (not like I have a schedule or anything… *cough cough*) Also, I blame Netflix. I discovered SHERLOCK this week and watched all three seasons in one go. Well, at least I know what to call myself now. People like me have a title; and that is HIGHLY FUNTIONING SOCIOPATH. YAAAAAY!**

**OKAY, SO. More DW, more Bernora issues, and Jack and JACQUELINE FROST PAID A VISIT, WOOT WOOT! (ALL KUDOS TO **_**SafyreSky **_**for Jacqueline Frost; both she and her character are AMAZING, so go check out her work. Like, now. No, yesterday. Too slow. TRY AGAIN!) **

**Ugh, strange mood, strange illness. If only a Matt Smith kissogram would show up at my door, life would be SO much better… *wink wink WHOVIANS wink***

******And to clear up any confusion, TEC2 takes place the Christmas **_**after the events of Crystal Springs. **_**They are on the same timeline/universal plane, so this story is taking place approximately two years after TEC and one year after CS. **  


**There is a story behind the 'distracting Bernard' thing. Jack was involved. HEAVILY involved. Hehehe….I could post it as a one shot, if you guys want. Lemme know!**

**Please review. I'd love to hear what your feels are on this development. **

**-Ana, who can't write a decent A/N to save her life today (crap!)**


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Magic and Mayhem

ELLENORA'S CHOICE: _Take Flight, by Lindsey Stirling_

Jacquie and Elle took a long walk around the Workshop, not really saying much. Finally Jacquie led Elle to her own suites. As usual, Jacquie's suite was redecorated in a color scheme that better suited her; mostly shades of blue and white. He wintery magic had completely redone the room during one of her first stays at the Pole, and the room was kept that way for when she dropped in to hang with Elle from time to time, or stayed on more official business.

"Now," Jacquie said, closing the door behind her friend, "I know we don't usually practice here, but I thought it was about time that you try to use your powers with interference from another magical source…other than the Pole's magic, which seems to help you."

Elle nodded in understanding. Ever since her promotion, Elle had been gradually assuming the magical powers connected with being an elf. However, given the additional element of her telepathy, Elle's powers were considerably stronger than the average elf; and with the added magic of being a head elf, it required some training to be used to its 'full potential', as Jacquie had put it. So when over the past few months Elle had begun to exhibit skills beyond the scope of what she considered to be 'normal', and an ability to Jacquie had offered to teach her how to control the magic, which Elle had gladly accepted.

Bernard had warned her that becoming an elf was a somewhat intensive process; and one could easily exhibit an ability to learn new things at an astonishingly quick rate. Jacquie and Elle practiced together every few weeks; but even Jacquie was surprised at the rate at which Elle was learning to control her magic. For coming from a non-magic background, she was surprisingly adept at harnessing her newfound powers: she had completed the basic tricks most elves had with ease, like moving objects from one place to another, or imbuing magic into food or other things to make them more appealing. So Jacquie had given Elle a seemingly impossible task: to summon a five pound sack of flour from the Kitchen to the other side of the Workshop.

She had expected it to take Elle a couple of weeks to figure it out. But when she'd come back three weeks later, Elle had triumphantly plunked a two hundred pound sack in front of Jacquie in under ten seconds.

It was at that point Jacquie had stopped going easy on her.

By now, Elle could manage teleporting objects of up to three hundred and seventy two pounds (it was a very, exact number, oddly;) conjure small objects from a mental image (the largest she had managed so far was a small purse Jacquie had left at home accidentally;) wrap presents with a few gestures of her hands; dim lights using her thoughts, as well as turn the thermostat up or down or a faucet on or off; and break objects and then repair them without touching them. To top it off, Jacquie had insisted she take up a musical instrument, to practice control. After some careful thought, Elle had chosen the violin —and, of course, learned to play it in a month.

The last time they had met, they had discussed her acquiring an ability to levitate objects.

"So, what can you manage?" Jacquie asked, waving her hand casually and levitating a jar of blue pens from her writing desk past Elle.

Elle suppressed a smirk; so far, it was the happiest Jacquie had seen her all day. Lifting her own hands, she opened her hands towards a deep blue marble vase. Dark green sparks flying from Elle's fingertips and spiraling around the vase. After quivering a moment and rattling against the iced white floorboards, it rose effortlessly into the air, twirling around with the jar Jacquie was controlling.

"Nice!" Jacquie said appreciatively. Even though she had seen Elle impress her many times now, it was still exciting to see her friend do new things with her newly found skills. Both girls grinned like crazy as they watched the objects twirling around.

Then, rather suddenly, Elle's magic seemed to choke. The green sparks faded out, and silver ones took their place. A blast of magic washed over the vase, and it changed from blue to silver. Elle visibly tensed and pulled her hands away, Jacquie only just managing to catch the vase before it shattered on the floor.

"Sorry."Elle took a shaky step backwards, hiding her hands behind her back with a guilty look on her face.

"Elle?" Jacquie said uncertainly. "What's going on?" Seeing the look on her friend's face, she frowned. "This isn't the first time this has happened, is it."

Elle didn't answer. "What does it mean?" she asked instead. "Silver instead of green. It's always been green until…recently," she faltered.

"It means your magic is changing," Jacquie said, staring at the vase. "Becoming stronger. You know how normal elves have either red or green sparks, for performing magical tasks? Theirs is a simpler form; it lightly taps into the Christmas magic and draws off just enough to perform the job." She picked up the vase. What had been marble before was now solid silver, ornately wrought with designs of interwoven vines and leaves. It was stunningly beautiful; but Jacquie was a bit distracted by the fact that Elle had just caused something to change its very matter….stone to metal was no small feat, even for an accomplished being.

"So…I was running on basic elf magic," Elle said, working it out. "But what does it mean now?" She held up her hands to stare at them, summoning her magic. A swirl of silver sparks appeared in each hand, with just a few flecks of green in them. "What does silver mean?"

Jacquie thought a moment. "Have you ever seen anyone else use sparks of a different color than red or green?"

"Well, Mother Nature has lilac colored sparks," Elle said carefully. "You have dark blue, and Jack's are light blue. Santa's is white, oddly enough; Sandman had light brown, almost tan, Easter Bunny has an almost grass green color, and Cupid has pink…he totally hates it too."

"And Father Time has black and white," Jacquie finished. "But I mean anyone besides a Legendary Figure. We have our own unique magic; our core, that provides the color for our magical sparks. I mean, have you seen anyone in the Workshop."

"No…" Elle said, then paused. "Wait. Bernard. He uses gold sparks."

"Right. Because he is the head elf, his magic is stronger than the other elves…much stronger, in fact."

"HOW much stronger?" Elle asked curiously. "He never talks about his magic. Not that I've told him anything about what's going on with mine; but still. He never makes a big deal about it."

Jacquie frowned. "That's odd. I thought he would have told you."

"Told me what?" Elle pressed. Now this was getting a little unsettling.

Seeing that Elle really knew nothing, Jacquie hesitated.

"Jacquie, TELL ME," Elle insisted. "Please."

A long pause hung in the air. "Haven't you ever considered," Jacquie began finally, "That Bernard is the only elf who teleports? All the others have to use the E.L.F.S jet packs—including Curtis; even back when he was number two."

Elle opened her mouth, then closed it. That never had occurred to her.

"Teleportation is a high form of magic," Jacquie went on. "It's exhausting, even for those who are used to it. You would know; because of your telepathy and mental strength, you are the only other elf who can teleport."

"You get used to it, I guess," Elle said quietly. She looked up at Jacquie. "He was surprised the first time I teleported. He was shocked. I didn't make a big deal about it because I'd seen him do it and I didn't realize it was anything special."

"Exactly." Jacquie sighed, and ran a hand through her frozen hair. "I'm not sure I should be the one telling you this, but if I were in your shoes, I know you'd tell me…so here goes." She took a deep breath, while the dread continued to build in Elle's stomach.

"Two hundred years after Saint Nicholas created the Pole, he was called away for a time. A long time. The elves thought he wasn't coming back. I don't know, 'cause I was just a kid and wasn't there, but what I know is that the Clauses weren't enacted yet, so there were no rules or guidelines about how to recruit a Santa. There was only Bernard."

Elle gaped. "You…you mean…." She floundered for words.

"Bernard ran the Pole single handedly for over a hundred years." Jacquie picked up the vase a second time to look at it again. "Before Nicholas left, he blessed Bernard, gave him extra magic. Enough magic to do what Nicholas had been doing—running everything, like Santa does— and be the head elf. This was before Santa's magic was formed; so what Bernard got was basically the raw magic ingredients for the most powerful figure in the Pole. The magic of head elf—his status being primary, even over you—is already a frost of a lot of magic on its own. Leader of not only the elves in the Workshop, but every elf in Elfsburg. But to pile the elementary blocks of Santa's magic on top of that…Legendary magic…" Jacquie gave Elle a wide eyed, sideways look. "That's a lot of magic, Elle.

"The Council during that time offered him a seat at the table, as Chancellor of the Northern Regions. This included at the time Elfsburg, the Pole, and all lands bordering until the beginning of Crystal Springs Territory." She paused for effect. "They offered him Legendary Status, Elle. He was that powerful."

Elle said nothing.

"When Nicholas returned one hundred and fifty seven years later, everyone was surprised—except Bernard. Nicholas had brought the Santa Handbook back with him; he locked himself into Santa's study—it's the same study, even now— for two weeks, instructing Bernard on how to run everything. It was then that the Emissary Clause was written. It makes sense to me now why the magic is manifesting in you this strongly."

"Why?" Elle was absolutely confused beyond belief.

"Because in the end, Saint Nicholas never took away the power he'd given Bernard. He let him keep it, just in case things ever went horribly wrong."

In bewilderment, Elle said, "But…things have gone wrong. Horribly wrong. I mean, look at the Escape Clause; and that's only since I've been here!"

"He has stopped things from happening before," Jacquie corrected, "some not so long before you came. But the Escape Clause is a different story. Bernard was with you—his Betrothed, as outlined in the Emissary Clause—and outside of the Northern Regions. In Crystal Springs, his authority was voided."

"But…but…" Elle was uncharacteristically short of words. "But Bernard isn't ON the Legendary Council!" she finally protested. "What is this 'authority' you're talking about?"

Jacquie pinched the bridge of her nose. "I'm not Santa right?" she said. "Well, just because I'm not Santa doesn't mean I don't help protect the Pole. Bernard does the same thing, though on a much larger level. His magic could easily have guarded the Pole; he didn't need Santa for that. But to perpetuate the spirit of Christmas, he gave that up. He turned down the offer of Legendary Status. He didn't want that kind of attention; and for that reason, I can understand why he and Jack don't always hit it off. They're opposites." The sprite paused to give her friend an earnest look. "_That's_ the guy you're _engaged to,_ Elle. Just because he's in the background of the picture doesn't mean he isn't powerful."

"He…he's good like that," said Elle thoughtfully. "And you know I don't care about power anyway." She took a deep breath and put her hands to her head, eyes suddenly brimming with tears. Emotion. Just, why. "Okay…okay. Whew." She took another deep breath. "So, what does this have to do with me?"

"I think," Jacquie said, coming over and taking both of her friend's hands in her own, "that you're not just adjusting to being an elf—or even Bernard's fiancé. I think that Nicholas meant for you to be a match for Bernard not just romantically, or mentally. Maybe, just maybe…he meant for you to be a match for him magically." She twirled her fingers over Elle's palm. Two columns, one of silver and the other of gold sparks, wound around each other like DNA, finally tying into a love knot.

Jacquie closed Elle's palm over the shape, and smiled. Elle was surprised to feel a cold piece of metal in her hand, and looked up at her friend with eyes full of feeling.

"Now," Jacquie said gently. "Tell me what's really going on around here."

* * *

With a sigh, Elle swallowed hard. "It's…hard to explain," she said, pulling away from Jacquie and going over to the window. Outside, it was snowing lightly, and looking down into the courtyard, the usual evening bustle was moving about the square. Usually, Elle found a sense of security in the rhythmic throb of routine; but over the past few days it had begun to feel stifling. "And yet," she said slowly, "it's so basic an idea. But with everything the way it is; well… you know."

"Complicated," Jacquie said simply.

"Yeah."

"It's always been complicated," said Jacquie, taking a seat on the sofa. "At least for you. And as awful as that sounds, it's true. What's different now?"

"All my different kinds of complicated are clashing."Seeing that Jacquie was patting the sofa beside her, Elle trudged over and sat down, sinking into the soft white cushions with a perplexed expression.

Just then, there came a knock on the door.

"Oh, _come on!_" Jacquie cried irritably. It had taken this long to get Elle in a talking mood, and now an interruption?

"Come in," Elle called, nudging Jacquie in a chastising way.

It was Carol.

"Hi, Mrs. Claus," Elle sighed, and relaxed again.

"Hi there Elle, Jacqueline." Carol smiled and came in, closing the door with a soft click. "Do you mind if I join you?"

"Not at all," Elle said, scooting over so Carol could sit on her other side.

Jacquie was surprised. "You mean you know what's going on?"

"Elle and I have quite a bit in common," Carol said kindly. She sat down. "Both of us have had an interesting time of our relationships. And, I might add, the difficulties of dealing with human family."

"Ohhh," Jacquie's eyes went wide in realization. "It's Phil and Josie?"

"It always cracked me up you called them that," Elle said. "I never understood how you could talk to them like you were their age. Even when we were nine, you were calling them that. But in reality you were much older."

"What have they done now," Jacquie said, in a 'oh boy, this again' tone of voice. She slumped back into the couch in a defeated way.

Elle gave Carol a look.

"Mr. and Mrs. Connelly are becoming rather…inquisitive about what Elle is doing up here," Carol said, patting Elle on the knee. "Apparently they have been sending private investigators north of the border to search for clues as to what she's doing."

"But they aren't finding anything, right?"

Carol shook her head. "No. And that's the problem. See, they haven't told Elle about the PI's. We picked that up here; well, Elfland Security did."

"So what's the deal?" Jacquie wondered. "If they can't find anything out, then what's the problem?"

Elle and Carol both gave the sprite dubious looks.

"Ohhh," Jacquie said, sitting up straighter. This was news. "Oh! You're going to tell them. But how?"

"Mom and Dad are demanding I come home for Christmas." Elle rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, they do that every year. What's different now?"

"Security tells us that Phillip Connelly is planning a trip north for himself and his wife," said Carol. "**We** think that they're coming to find her."

"Oh no doubt," Jacquie agreed. "You don't know her parents like I do, Mrs. Claus; they are SO overprotective."

"I think it has something to do with all the nightmares I've had," Elle said. "Back then I was border-line narcoleptic: sometime I would just conk out for no apparent reason. They worried for me. I don't think they would have let me leave to come here if they'd been home."

"I KNOW they wouldn't have," Jacquie amended. She thought a moment. "So…wait a minute. If you're going to tell them—and I'm assuming you're not going to let them come here to do that—then you're going home." Jacquie stiffened. "Oh my god Elle. Are you actually going home?"

Elle sighed, and put her hands to her head again. "Santa's insisting I have to take care of this before it gets any more serious. My parents have money, no doubt they can pay for some kind of advanced technology to track me down; and if they do that, the entire North Pole is at risk."

"The idea is, for Elle and Bernard to go down to Seattle for the holidays. Spend a couple of weeks reconnecting with the family, make some holiday memories." Carol nudged Elle in an encouraging way, then said a little more carefully, "And, of course, have them meet Bernard in the first place…."

"Oh boy. That's gonna be fun."Jacquie said sarcastically.

"Not helping," Elle said dryly, staring at her friend.

"Sorry. But that's definitely…complicated," finished Jacquie with a shudder. "Introducing the fiancé they've never met, and don't even know that you have? Ugh. I do NOT envy you."

"Not to mention, I have to explain that I'm an elf now," said Elle. She crossed her arms protectively across her chest. "That's what I'm really looking forward to."

"Now, you two," Carol said in her principal's voice. "I'm ashamed of you! You're entirely missing the point."

"And what's the point, Mrs. Claus?" Elle asked wearily. She felt as though she were already in the middle of the giant ball of tangled multi-colored yarn her life was about to become.

Seeing her tired visage, Carol took both of the elf's hands in her own. "You have become a part of something wonderful," she said gently, looking Elle earnestly in the eyes. "It might be a little difficult for them at first, with all of the magic and mayhem of your becoming something that to them, shouldn't exist. But above all, your parents love you Elle; and when they see you're happy here, with Bernard, they'll understand. I know mine did."

Elle took a deep breath. "I know you're probably right," she said shakily. "But this is the biggest thing I've ever had to deal with, and it seems really overwhelming."

"A lot of that will go away, once you deal with your guilt," Jacquie said, setting a hand on Elle's shoulder. She sighed. "As much as the idea seems crappy to the both of us, I think it's the right thing to do. We both knew that one day you'd have to tell them. Better now than when you should be forty, and you still look seventeen."

"She does have a point," Carol seconded.

After a long moment of thought, Elle sighed loudly. "Ah, fine. You've both got me. I'll go! I'll go."

Carol broke into an excited grin, and squeezed Elle by the arm. "Oh, I'm so glad you've said that."

Jacquie smiled too. It was about time Elle stopped feeling like her heart was in two places, and she was happy that her friend would soon be able to fully accept who she was.

"Good! Good. Let's go tell the boys, so they can stop bickering." Carol got up and offered Elle a hand. "Hopefully their egos aren't too bruised yet, or we'll be feeling the aftershocks for days."

"Yeesh, I didn't even think about that," Elle admitted. "I was too… in my own head, I guess." She had to admit, agreeing to the plan was already making her feel as though a weight had been lifted from her. And she would have been lying if she'd said she didn't want to see her family again. But her stomach still had a nagging queasy feeling that she didn't just attest to nerves; and she didn't like it.

"Yeah, Jack was thinking some pretty menacing thoughts when we left," said Jacquie. "Something tells me he was going to rough up Bernard…he was convinced your being upset was his fault."

"Oh, God no." Elle face palmed. "Okay, off we go. Hopefully Bernard's eyebrows aren't frosted off yet. I like his eyebrows."

The women set off laughing, and yet walked a little more quickly knowing that it was rather possible. The boys sure could go far with an argument.

* * *

ELLENORA'S CHOICE: _Magic,_ by _Coldplay_

Jack hadn't wasted any time pouncing on Bernard once Elle had left. Santa had been sidetracked with his delivery route paperwork, and so Jack had insisted he get to work while he and Bernard went for a 'walk', Jack prosing on about the decorations, renovations, felicitations, and any other eye-catching things there were to see after being away so long.

What really happened was that no sooner had they'd made it outside of Santa's suites that Jack had instantly teleported Bernard to the ruins of old Elfsburg.

"Remote, isn't it?" Bernard looked around unimpressed. "You're 'watch-your-step' lectures don't usually require this much air."

"Ha ha," said Jack, making a face. He didn't have his suit coat on, and so stood with his silver braces hanging down the sides of his legs, his hands thrust into his pants pockets. "You're treading on thin ice there, elf."

"Yeah yeah," Bernard said dismissively. "I don't have the time for this. Or the energy." He sounded rather tired as he said that; not physically as much as emotionally. There was a look in his eye that told Jack just how things were between him and Elle: not good. Not speaking. Whenever Bernard was on bad terms with Elle a light seemed to drain out of his eyes, and his aura dimmed. Given the way he looked now Jack concluded that things were a lot worse than just not speaking.

"I bet you don't." Jack leveled a serious look at the head elf. "What have you done to Elle?" he demanded. "Something is SERIOUSLY wrong with her, and I, for one, think it has something to do with YOU."

Bernard stiffened, and his eyes narrowed. "I don't owe you explanations, Frost," he said flatly.

Jack took a step closer, lowering his tone. "You are not the only one who cares about that girl, so stop acting like you are."

Bernard gave a sardonic laugh. "So, you think that because Jacquie is so close to Elle, you have rights to pull the overprotective big brother act with her too?" He laughed again. "Hardly."

This definitely struck a chord with the winter Figure. Fists curling at his sides as he struggled to contain his magic against his rage, Jack snarled, "Well for someone who pretends to love her, you are doing a pretty bad JOB of it, aren't you?"

Bernard's face froze into a bitter stare. "As if you would know."

"From what you're showing—"

"What I SHOW and what I do behind closed doors are two, VERY separate things," Bernard clarified firmly. "And I ALREADY TOLD YOU, I don't have TIME for this…nor do I intend to make it." With one last stare Bernard turned on his heel in the snow and marched off, away towards Elfsburg, signaling the end of the discussion.

"I'm not done talking to you yet," Jack growled, light blue sparks swirling around his clenched fists. "In fact, I've hardly begun." Seeing Bernard ignoring him, something inside of Jack snapped. "HEY!" He yelled, instantly creating a tidal wave of snow that rushed towards Bernard's back.

But the snow didn't make it half the distance before Bernard turned back, quickly raising his hands in front of him. A golden bubble of sparks stopped the snow in its path, it hitting the barrier and falling to the ground in a long pile.

Jack drew back, surprised. "Haven't seen you do that in a good thousand years or so," he muttered, eyeing the half-sphere with one frosted eyebrow raised.

The snow having all fallen Bernard lowered his hands, the shield fading into a shower of golden sparks. "You know why I don't," he said quietly, his tone lacking his former conviction.

"Ah yes, the all-powerful elf lord; capable of so much yet content to stay in the woodwork. Hiding behind Santa's shadow, hoping to draw attention away from what he REALLY is." Jack snorted. "Please. Spare me the self-sacrificing, righteous 'protector of all things Christmas' act. So humble, yet brimming with power that is flanking Legendary Status. You wanna know what I think? You were too chicken to accept the Council's offer."

"I didn't accept because it wasn't my place," said Bernard sharply. "I knew as well as any of you that there was never supposed to be a 'Lord Protector of the Northern Regions'. That had already been assigned as Santa's responsibility."

"A Santa who abandoned you, for over a hundred and fifty YEARS!" said Jack. Obviously he wasn't about to let this drop. "And you were the only one who didn't give up on him coming back. Ever the believer, Theodulus the Faithful."

Bernard's face contorted. "Don't test me, Frost," he bit out, his fingertips swirling with golden sparks. "I'm not the one who almost became a murderer."

"I bet you haven't even told her what you really are," said Jack, ignoring Bernard's last jab. "I bet you've hidden it away from her, just like you do everyone else. Does Santa even know?"

"Yes, he does," Bernard said; and it was true. When Charlie was younger, around eight, he had fallen off a ladder two stories above the main floor; Bernard had used his magic to levitate him safely down to the ground. Santa didn't look at him the same way for a couple of months after, but it was Charlie who really gained a respect and knowledge of what Bernard was really capable of. And it had never been spoken of again.

"But I'm not wrong when I say you haven't told her," Jack deadpanned.

"Why does it matter to YOU, Frost; what I tell my fiancée or not?!"

"Because she DESERVES to know!" Jack glared at Bernard as though he were a complete idiot. "She's your Betrothed, as that frost bitten Clause of yours designates her; she is the girl you are LUCKY enough to be spending the rest of your existence with, and she deserves to know the TRUTH!" He sent another frozen jab of magic towards the elf, this time in the form of a snowball—a very firmly packed snowball, sent hurtling much too quickly to be deflected. It hit Bernard square in the chest, knocking him back a few feet. Oddly, he didn't lose his footing, but braced against the impact and stood again, sending a golden streak of magic flying into Jack's shoulder, knocking him sideways.

"OW!" Jack complained, rubbing at the place it had hit. A few residual golden sparks brushed off his waistcoat. "Oh, it's on, pointy," he muttered, forming his hands around the shape of an invisible snowball and summoning all his magic. It swirled between his two clasped hands in a light blue frenzy. "You get the girl, and you just keep blowing it, don't you? You just can't let her be happy."

"It's always my fault she's not happy, isn't it?"Bernard said angrily, standing sideways and breathing heavily; the golden sparks veritably clouding around his hands. "Regardless of if it has to do with her family or not, it all has to do with me; the blame ALWAYS lies with me." He grunted. "It's probably about time I teach you a lesson, after all of the stunts you've pulled over the years. All the trouble you've made between Elle and me."

"Can't let it go, can you twinkle-toes?" Jack rolled his eyes. "Just when I'd thought we'd left it in the past."

"You RUINED my engagement!" Bernard yelled. "I never even proposed to her, Jack; because nothing went like it was supposed to. That is ALWAYS going to be YOUR fault!"

"Then bring it, shorty," said Jack, drawing himself up in preparation to unleash his magic. It was surprising, and not a little alarming, to see Bernard draw himself up similarly; but whereas Jack simply looked more geared up, Bernard seemed to grow, change into someone else entirely. His face was almost older, and a fire burned in his eyes; had Jack been a lesser man he would have been genuinely scared. As it was, he felt an unsettled flutter in his stomach, and quickly dismissed the feeling as indigestion. He should have gone easier on the ham.

Not only had Jack destroyed so many things in his roguish and trickstery way, but he had made Bernard's love life with Elle pretty hellish. Normally, Bernard was rather good at forgiving and letting things go; Jack had always been the biggest exception to that, and truthfully, regardless of whatever the sprite had done to make up his past wrongdoings, Bernard had just about had it with him.

On the flip side, Jack had had quite the emotional journey of his own; and even though he and Bernard had always had their disagreements, he had thought that finally they, along with Elle, could get along. But it appeared that the head elf was nowhere near letting past harms rest, even though Elle had moved on. Jack was tired of always being doubted; and if it wasn't bad enough that he hadn't gotten a chance with Ellington, Bernard had to throw up walls between anything like friendship. The damn elf was so overprotective of his fiancée, like a lion protecting his mate; it was a little humorous coming from such a short guy, but it was entirely genuine.

Jack blasted his magic towards Bernard in a blue storm, just as Bernard let fly with the golden fury.

"ENOUGH!" At the exact moment their magic met, a thick sheet of silver sprang up between them, separating the forces and shattering each of them. Jack and Bernard each took a step back, alarmed.

There stood an entire group of onlookers: Santa, Carol and Jacquie all had looks of varying concern. Santa was panting from all the running, Carol was covering her eyes, but peeking, and Jacquie was reaching out, dark blue magic swirling in front of her hands but unused. All three wore horrified expressions.

It was Elle who stood in front of them, a glowering expression on her face, lips pursed and brows furrowed; her hands thrown down at her sides as they glowed with silver sparks, pure silver sparks.

"What is WRONG with you two?!" she said angrily. "I thought you were done with being asshats to each other!"

"Elle?" Bernard asked, clearly confused. But his eyes widened dramatically when he saw her hands glowing. "Elle, what's happened? How are you doing that."

"I've been helping her learn to control her magic," Jacquie said carefully, stepping forward to stand beside her friend. "You were right about frosting eyebrows off," she murmured to Elle. "I guess we just didn't consider Bernard might strike back." In a louder voice she said, "You really must have said something to piss him off, brother dearest."

"Yeah well, it went both ways," Jack grouched, shaking his stinging hands. Having your magic blocked and diverted was a bit painful. Bernard was too busy being astounded to notice the pain in his own hands.

"Elle, why didn't you tell me? About your magic," Bernard asked.

"I could ask you the same thing," Elle said stiffly, even though Jacquie could feel apprehension radiating from her friend's mind. Seeing Bernard use his magic in any way beyond normal, everyday things had scared her—especially when it was so obvious that even his impressive display wasn't his full potential force. All of a sudden, her vision blacked out momentarily, and she staggered to her left. "Whoa…" she muttered, clutching her head.

Bernard gained an anxious expression, and walked over to her, taking her hands in his own. He checked them over, very carefully; as if seeing something invisible there. Elle studied his face with a wide eyed, almost fearful look in her eyes. She suddenly felt very dizzy, and nauseous.

Bernard eyes widened, and he looked up at her. "You've used too much," he said quickly, and set one hand on her cheek. "Elle? Elle, listen to me. Don't black out, okay? Fight it."

"What are you talking ab…" Elle cut herself off as she suddenly swayed on her feet, her vision dimming for a few seconds longer this time. Her knees buckled. Bernard gripped her by the elbows and held her up, as Jack, Jacquie, Santa and Carol gathered around worriedly. Quite against her will, Elle began trembling violently, eyes wild and scared. "Bernard!" she whispered fearfully.

"What's happening to her!?" Scott asked in a panic. Carol clutched his arm, staring at Elle with horror.

"She's drained too much of her magic," Jacquie explained, not taking her eyes off of her friend's shaking form. "She hasn't had enough practice with magic of this strength; as far as I know, she's only recently discovered she even has it."

"What do we do?" Carol asked desperately. "Somebody's got to get Dr. Hismus."

"On it," Jack said, and vanished in a cloud of blue sparks. Bernard, meanwhile, was still checking Elle over, while holding her up. Jacquie came forward to help him, but he threw out a hand to stop her. "Nobody touch her!" he cried. "Especially not you, Jacqueline. You're magic isn't compatible with hers. Give her the wrong type when she's this weak and it could kill her." He looked into Elle's eyes. They were unfocused and hazy, and swirling dark green—the same shade of green her old magic had been. "Elle, talk to me," he said, stroking her hair. "Come on, stay awake."

Tears slipped out of Elle's eyes and down her cheeks. "I feel everything," she said in a strange, faraway voice that wasn't her own. She was still trembling. "All of the magic, all of the forces; individually. Protecting the world. Forever." Elle gasped. "The burden of Christmas. The weight of all of its worth, and promise, and meaning." The silver coming from her fingertips was slowing thinning.

"Bernard," Jacquie warned; but Bernard's eyes had widened.

"That's what I see," he whispered in disbelief. He gripped her arms a little tighter as she swayed again. "Every hour, every day, every year. It's terrible, isn't it? Yet it's so worth it." He gently cupped her face in his hand as Elle began gasping for air.

"Where is Jack? Come on!" Santa cried urgently.

"We've got to do something!" Carol was obviously panicking as well. But both were missing what was really going on between the two head elves.

"Bernard!" Jacquie cried again. The silver sparks had all but stopped flowing.

"It…hurts." Elle was blinking slowly as more tears fell from her eyes.

"Elle?" Bernard said, looking down at her hands. There were no more sparks at all. "Elle, stay with me."

"My head…" Elle sobbed, her lips trembling. "It's so quiet…"

"She's losing her telepathy," Santa realized.

"And her ears," said Jacquie, sounding horrified. "They're shrinking."

Sure enough, Elle's ears were losing their pointed tips, reverting back to round, human ears as she lost her magic.

"Bernard?" Elle cried softly. He could tell by the glassed over expression in her eyes that she couldn't see. "Bernard, why have the lights gone out?"

Tears stung at his eyes. Around them, he could hear Santa and Carol freaking out, Jacquie trying to calm them; but it was like listening from the bottom of a well. All he could hear was Elle gasping for breath.

No. He had sworn he would never let any harm come to her. Not again. And not now, when he'd finally just realized how much of a match she truly was for him.

Bernard sniffed, and blinked back his own tears fiercely. "Come here," he murmured softly. "You don't need a Doctor. You need me." And he caught her lips with his own, kissing her deeply.

Immediately a cloud of golden magic began surrounding them. Santa, Carol and Jacquie all stopped in the middle of their meltdown and stared, as the magic flowed from Bernard's hands into Elle's, as well as from their kiss and from their eyes—almost as though their minds were communicating. She went limp in his arms. Bernard began slowly lowering her, until she was lying down and he was bent over, kneeling in the snow beside her. Jacquie was reminded of the scene in _The Sleeping Beauty,_ where the prince kisses Aurora back to life.

"What is he doing?" Carol asked, astonished. Scott's mouth was hanging open rather ungracefully.

"He's saving her," said Jacquie quietly, watching the touching scene before her with misty eyes. "Bernard's magic is the only true match for Elle's. They quite literally complete each other."

Carol made a 'that is too adorable' face, despite the solemnity.

Finally, after a few seconds, Bernard pulled away, his eyes glowing gold. It was more than a little unsettling; Jacquie wasn't much fazed, but Santa and Carol were glad that they faded down to their normal deep brown rather quickly. He took a deep breath, just as Elle sighed. Her eyes were still glowing with the bright golden light. Strands of golden sparks swirled all around her body, as if rebuilding her: her ears had grown back, they could see now, and her cheeks were sparkling again.

"Bernard," She breathed, and her fiancé lowered his mouth to hers one last time, breathing golden sparks into her lungs. They saw her chest rise, and then a shock wave not unlike a small sonic boom ricocheted from her chest, all of the magic surrounding her suddenly washed into silver as they braced for the wave to hit them. Jacquie quickly put up her hands and constructed an icy shield to protect the Clauses and herself, the wave passing over them and into the distance, a visible ripple in the air.

Bernard pulled softly away from Elle, and sat on his heels, holding one of her hands and waiting. The last golden sparks she breathed back out, where they turned into pure silver ones, and then she breathed in, the rest of the sparks retracting through her fingers. None came out on her next breath, and her breathing stabilized, just as Jack appeared with Dr. Hismus and a few elf nurses.

Bernard was still in that odd bubble of silence as he stepped back, allowing the medical professionals access to Elle's inert body. He knew in his core that she would be fine now; but it was strange: he felt as though he'd just rebuilt her from scratch, and part of him worried that she would somehow be different when she awoke.

Dr. Hismus checked for her pulse, accidentally brushing her coat in the process. Some golden sparks fell out and evaporated, but not before the doctor had seen them. He looked back over his shoulder at the head elf, who stood gazing at Elle with a disturbed, faraway look. The two elves had a silent conversation with their eyes that told Hismus everything he needed to know.

"She'll be fine," he pronounced, rising to his feet. "Ladies, please finish taking her vitals, and give her a mild sedative," he said to the nurses, who nodded and set about their tasks. "Then let's get her back into town."

"That's it?" Jack said in disbelief. "But she was practically dying when I left!"

"We'll explain later, Jack," Santa said, setting a hand on his friend's shoulder while still staring at the prone form of his number two elf. "It's a bit…"

"Complicated," said Carol and Jacquie at the same time, and exchanged looks.

The word had never been more applicable.

* * *

**SHIT IS HAPPENING AGAIN, WHY CAN'T I STOP DOING THAT?! POOR ELLE AND BERNARD. **

**I am REALLY not sure how I feel about this chapter. I am actually reevaluating the entire story at this point…I don't know why. Making up my own headcanons feels weird after so long of reading everybody else's. Iunno… what do you guys think? :/ **

**I really wanted to explore how Elle's transformation into an elf was going, since it would hardly be an easy thing considering her non-magical background and her relative position of authority. You know when you write something, and you absolutely love it and it's perfect, and then you come back later and you don't like it anymore and everything seems wrong? That's kind of what I'm feeling. Maybe I've just lost my TSC author moxy or something. I feel like I've gone back to being an outsider in the fandom….wow that sounded less dramatic in my head! If anything it would be my fault anyway. **

**Okay, enough with the mopey author feels. I did put it at the end so you didn't have to read it if you didn't want to. though. **

**Jacqueline Frost belongs to SafyreSky. I am only borrowing Jacquie and will not cause any undue harm to her person. (Elle would kill me, anyway!)**

**Anyway, it would really mean a lot if you guys would take a mo and review this chapter. I can take any kind of input, really; I feel like I need a second, third fourth- MORE opinions on this chapter. My little sister liked it but besides that I'm just not feeling it. I'm actually considering starting over…hmm. Leave a note!**

**-Ana**


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

While You Were Sleeping...

ELLENORA'S CHOICE: _She Will be Loved, _by Maroon5

Elle didn't wake up for a couple of days.

Dr. Hismus had assured everyone that her need for rest was completely normal, given her 'circumstances'. Despite Bernard's transfer of magic, Elle's body needed time to recharge. It would take a little while for her to adjust to the full power of her new magic, much as Jacquie had predicted; and so the Workshop was left entirely in Bernard's hands for the time being.

Having drained so much of his magic, much more than he normally used, and having to run things without Elle left Bernard rather exhausted himself; but he wasn't about to complain. Once again, he had almost lost Elle, and once again, it had been his fault. This thought did nothing to alleviate his guilt, which only made him wearier.

Luckily, he had extra help. Jacquie and Jack, who both felt guilty for different reasons, stayed behind to lend a hand in keeping things running smoothly. Santa put in extra time, too; while Carol and Jacquie stuck to Elle's specialty of 'making spirits bright': that is, keeping elf morale up. Surprisingly, not even the both of them could pull off what Elle seemed to manage effortlessly.

But after six days had gone by without Elle so much as stirring, they really started to get worried.

On the evening of the sixth day Santa called a meeting in his study, asking Carol, Jack and Jacqueline, and Bernard to attend. Since this was strictly a North Pole affair, no outside Figures or Authorities were called in.

Jack and Jacqueline showed up looking even paler than usual; with Jack not even making sarcastic remarks or complaints about all of the work he and his sister were putting in. Even he realized how grave the situation was, and anyway he didn't think it wise to upset the delicate internal balance of the only remaining head elf. The two of them had made up, albeit reluctantly. Both Jack and Bernard knew that their arguments, however valid, wouldn't help things; so they had instigated a mutually assured, temporary peace. Knowing Jack, he wouldn't keep his concerns quiet forever, and knowing Bernard things wouldn't be pretty when he allowed them to surface again–but for now, things were generally okay between them.

Bernard hadn't slept at all since Elle's 'incident'. Whenever he hadn't been busy running things he had been at Elle's bedside, watching over her protectively and waiting for any sign of her returning consciousness; and with each day that there was none he grew progressively worse. Even though much more skilled than Elle given his almost seventeen hundred years of experience, and much more powerful in general, Bernard still should have had a long period of rest after expending so much of his magic at once. Or so Santa told the others.

So it was that between having not taken the rest he should have had, worrying incessantly about Elle, and working an extra difficult schedule, Bernard had now gone a good 72 hours without sleep, and he was looking the worse for it. His beret sat more crookedly on his head than usual, with his dark curls peeking out from underneath in a way that was much more disorderly than he normally tolerated; and his shirt was rumpled. He hadn't smiled since Elle had been injured, his sparkle had faded out considerably, and dark circles sat under his eyes, which was a VERY bad sign. Elves had an inherent resistance to 'human' traits of weariness, and the fact that Bernard was showing such severe responses to stress was a thing to be concerned about.

Not that Bernard allowed anyone to dwell on his appearance. Jacquie, who had seen him rubbing tiredly at his face most of the day, had tried to bring it up; but Bernard had immediately redirected the conversation back to Elle. Jack had made a snarky comment once or twice, and was actually completely ignored. Eventually the others had taken the hint and left the subject alone.

The group had been talking worriedly about what to do with Elle for about an hour. They couldn't find any real solutions, as nothing could really be done until she woke up. Elle's situation–while similar in some respects to the coma Jacqueline had experienced earlier that year, after being drugged with _Mageia anochio_ by her evil Uncle Pyros–was different, in that the magic Elle had encountered wasn't hostile–quite the opposite. What everyone was thinking (but NOT saying) was how very possible it was that given the superior strength of Bernard's magic, he had reduced her metabolism and crippled her magic— and possibly consciousness—indefinitely.

This assessment couldn't be verified given Elle's inept state; but the unspoken idea sat just below the surface of the conversation, causing tension that didn't exactly help anyone involved. Scott and Carol were growing more and more intense with Jack, Jack's patience with Bernard was wearing thin, Bernard had begun to visibly shake in anger, and Jacqueline was just wishing she weren't in this mess in the first place, when a knock came on the door.

It was Kasper, the smallish elf who worked at the Elfsburg Grille with Judy and Abby. He had once been in a great deal of trouble; during the events of the Deliquesce he had been threatened using his kidnapped sister and forced into drugging Jacquie into her 'fits'. Now that all of that was behind them, and his sister Polly was safe at home in the Pole, he was much less jumpy than he'd been back in those days.

"Excuse me," he said shyly, ducking into the room, "but Judy told me I might find you all here. It seems that Ms. Elle has woken up."

Everyone at the table froze. "_What?!"_ they all cried simultaneously, causing Kasper to jump a little (loud noises still got him, as did raised voices.)

"Sorry," Jacquie apologized, noting his cringe. "But what…how did you hear that?"

"Well," said Kasper nervously, shifting from one foot to another, "Abby went past the Head Elf suites and heard noises inside. Knowing that you were all in council here with Bernard, she came and told Judy, who sent me to tell you."

"What kind of noises?" Bernard demanded, clutching at the table edge with his fingernails.

"Loud banging, stuff breaking, you name it."

In an instant Bernard disappeared in a cloud of gold sparks.

"You know, he's really much too tired to be doing that," Jack muttered, using his powers to teleport the rest of the group (minus Kasper) after Bernard.

* * *

Just as Kasper had said, loud shattering noises were coming from behind the heavy wooden door. Bernard stood in front of it, an alarmed expression on his tired face.

"What is she _doing _in there?" Santa wondered aloud. "It sounds like she's taking a baseball bat to everything you two own."

"If Bernard were in there with her, I'd have a slightly _different_ idea about what was going on," Jack muttered.

Everyone looked at Jack with varying degrees of disgust and confusion.

"I don't know if that was supposed to be an innuendo, or a bad attempt at suggesting we'd be fighting," Bernard said disgustedly.

"Innuendo, actually," Jack clarified coolly. "But either way works."

Jacquie whacked his arm.

"OW!"

"Knock it off," she whispered severely. "Now is hardly the time."

Meanwhile, Bernard was taking a deep breath and squaring his exhausted shoulders. "Well, here goes nothing," he murmured, and opened the main door.

Once he was safely inside for a few seconds without crying out in pain, the rest of the group hustled in after him. Given the suite's open floor plan, most of the rooms were visible from the entry—not including the bedrooms, whose closed doors ran in a row, about twenty paces away, on the wall opposite the front door. The main rooms seemed to be in perfect order: to their left, the sitting room with the TV and fireplace was tidy and organized— minus the DVDs scattered across the coffee table; symptoms of a recent obsession on Elle's part—while to their right, the kitchen was undisturbed, the ambient lights on but nothing sitting out on the olive green marble counters. Both rooms were empty, and the doors to the three bedrooms were all closed…except that all of the noise was coming from behind Elle's door.

Cautiously, and using a light footed walk that would have made a ninja proud, Bernard and (surprisingly) the rest of the group made their way to her door and stood there, everyone looking to Bernard anxiously.

"Elle?" He called hesitantly. The noises stopped.

"Bernard?"

Bernard sighed in relief, leaning limply against the door. "Elle, I don't know what's going on in there, but you need to calm down."

"What…what do you mean?"

"You had an accident a few days ago," he explained hesitantly. "You've been unconscious, in a coma. Are you alright?" That was a relative question, really; but it was worth asking all the same.

"Ummm…"A pause followed. "Yeah? Yeah…I'm good." The sound of whirring momentarily cut through the air, and another crash. "Oops. Sorry. A coma?"

"Yeah," Jacquie said, leaning in to the door beside Bernard. "Do you remember anything that happened?"

"Well…" There was a long pause. "You know, you guys can just come in."

The group exchanged wary looks. Santa eventually shrugged as if to say, 'what's the worst that can happen?' Bernard carefully cracked open the bedroom door. "Okay. Coming in."

It was dusky in the room; only a small lamp in the corner was on. But to their surprise, everything was in order. There weren't fragments of broken glass or smashed furniture lying around, nor were the walls bearing any dents or sign of ill treatment. The room was in perfect order, just like it had been when they'd put her there.

And there, tucked into bed with her pajamas on, was Elle. She had a giant silver tumbler of something in her hand, complete with swizzle straw. She looked a little pale but for the most part okay. And across the room from her, on the opposite wall, was...

"Ohhhh," said the small crowd, almost unanimously. The TV had been moved into the bedroom. Frozen on screen was a strange man with floppy hair and a bow tie, brandishing a glowing green stick that was reminiscent of Elle's blue one. Running with him were a redheaded girl with seemingly endless legs, and a young man with a rather large nose. In the background were a group of creepy looking girls in satin nightgowns.

Sorry," Elle said again, more apologetically this time. With a wave of her hand the lights sprang on. She grimaced a little under the sudden flood of luminance, but the guilty look was all over her face. "I didn't exactly remember about the accident–still don't, in fact–so I discovered season five of _Doctor Who_ instead."

Bernard stood silently, staring at Elle.

"Uh, guys? Let's give the happy couple some alone time, why don't we." Santa backed out of the room. The others followed suit.

"Glad to see you're awake, Elle," Jacquie said, eyeing Bernard concernedly. But Jack grabbed her by the arm and led her out, silently forbidding her from playing her usual role as the best friend.

_It's Bernard's role now, _he told her mentally. _Let him do his job…we know how much he relishes that._

Jacquie grimaced. _Was that another innuendo, Jack?_

Beside her, Jack suppressed a grin. _No. But it's a surprise to see whose mind went in the gutter first._

Jacquie slapped his arm again.

"OW!"

"You big baby."

* * *

Instead of launching into a tirade about how worried he'd been, and how Elle should have tried to contact him as soon as she'd woken up in bed in her pajamas with no recollection of how she'd come to be there, a big gap in her memories and a nagging sense of exhaustion wearing on her…Bernard simply stood there, looking at her with an almost blank look on his face. The vacancy of expression highlighted just how tired he really was–if they hadn't already seen it progressing throughout the past few days, it was clear enough now. The relief was plain on his face. Elle still looked horribly guilty, afraid Bernard would launch into said lecture.

"Look, I'm sorry I didn't reach out to you mentally," Elle began quickly. "But I'm just worn out, and I didn't think…"

But instead, Bernard said nothing. He simply walked over to the empty side of the bed and sat down beside her, taking her face in his hands. "Are you alright?" he said seriously.

Elle was frightened by how awful Bernard looked, and she was immediately more concerned for him. "Bernard, what the frick have you been doing? You look terrible, how–"

"Just answer the question," he sighed, but not meanly. "Do you feel alright? I know you're probably exhausted, even though you've been sleeping; and…" he trailed off, looking into her eyes with a sudden frightened expression.

"What?" Elle's eyes widened. "Bernard, what?! Is something wrong with me?"

He blinked hard, twice; then ordered her to do the same. She did, and stared at him.

"Your eyes," Bernard said, still surprised. "They're not blue anymore."

"What?" with an abrupt flick of her wrist Elle summoned her mirror from her vanity and held it before her face.

Sure enough, her eyes were a blue _green. _Too blue to be hazel, but too green to be considered 'blue' anymore.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Elle demanded, sounding very upset. She wasn't sure why, but it felt rather personal a change. "Bernard, what happened? What is so bad that my eyes would have changed color? Bernard?"

Bernard had been spacing off–probably mostly due to exhaustion. In actuality, he had been looking around the room thoughtfully. "Elle," he said slowly, "It's just you and me now. Drop the mirage."

"Wha…?" Elle's attempt at innocence faltered when she saw how certain he was of her deception. "Why."

"Because I need to see how bad the damage is," said Bernard, eyeing her carefully. "I'm assuming it's not good, considering you were about to lie to me about it."

Elle didn't respond, sitting tensely and staring at the tumbler in her hands. Bernard reached over and took it from her, the object immediately vanishing into thin air. He could see how reluctant she was, but what he had said was true: he needed to see how much Elle had changed. Already he was unsettled by her lying.

"I can drop it myself," Bernard said, raising a hand.

"No!" Elle's eyes widened and she grabbed the hand, pulling it back down. "I mean…" she sighed, and looked away abashedly. "_Fine._"

With a careless wave of her hand, the air in the room shimmered, a clear ripple passing over the surroundings. After a moment, broken objects appeared all around. The vanity was overturned, the mirror smashed into thousands of tiny shards. The dresser drawers had been pulled out and tossed across the room, leaving a large dent in the wall from where they had collided; the clothes had been tossed haphazardly around the room. The TV hung crookedly from the wall, its screen fractured and completely ruined. Several strips of wallpapering had been torn away, hanging in defeated curls from the wall, and a few baseboards had been ripped away as well.

In short, it looked as though a tornado had swept through Elle's room. And unfortunately, it looked like Elle herself had been the tornado.

"Holy night, Elle," he breathed, looking around at the destruction. "What happened? _When _did this happen?"

Elle clasped her hands together firmly in her lap. "I can't control it," she whispered, horrified. "When I woke up," her head hung in embarrassment, "I woke up, and I just lost it. Lost all control. And I couldn't stop it, it just went on and did _this" __–_she gestured around at the mess–"until it stopped itself." She shuddered. "It was like Jacquie all over again, only I was in my right mind. I can't control my magic anymore, Bernard. It's…it's like it's too strong for me. Everything I could do, all the stuff Jacquie taught me, it just doesn't work!" As her breathing picked up, a small clap of silver light flashed out from between her hands. The effect was like a small sonic boom; a lamp on the bedside table that had somehow escaped the attack before was knocked sideways and nearly off the table. Bernard caught it before it could hit the ground.

"It sounds to me like you're having an adverse reaction to your new powers," he said, setting the lamp aright in the table. "Assimilating that much magic into your system is quite the process…especially considering that you weren't born magical. Coming from a human background, it's much harder." He set his hand on his knee, and opened it palm up. A small sphere of golden sparks swirled around busily. "I would know."

"Oh." Elle thought about it a moment. "Oh! You would, wouldn't you?" Bernard gave her a rueful, almost disappointed look. "Sorry, it's just…sometimes I forget you've ever been anything but an elf."

"I wish I could," he admitted. "That wasn't particularly my best time of life." He stared absently at the sphere a moment before continuing. "Your transition has been remarkably easy, compared to mine. I think it has to do with Jacqueline's 'lessons'. By actively tapping off your magic, you made it more tolerable to your body. But after sleeping for four days, well; it built up. This is the result."

"That explains it, somewhat," Elle agreed. She looked at him again. "But that doesn't explain why you look so awful. I know you've probably been telling the others something like you're just worn out: but I know better. You can go weeks without sleeping and barely blink. And don't even try to tell me that your transfer of magic to me did it; I've done enough research on magic to know that a being with…well…" Elle cleared her throat. It was still a little hard to swallow, both literally and figuratively. "With as much magic Potential as you should hardly be run down by something like that. So. Tell me the truth."

The truth. Just like Jack had said. This was not what Bernard wanted to have to explain right now, but he didn't really have much of a choice considering the circumstances. "Well," he began. "It was a really long time ago. You see, there was a time when Nicholas went away for quite a long–"

"No," Elle interrupted. "That's not what I meant."

"Oh?" That was a surprise–and relief.

"Jacquie already told me."

Or not.

"What do you mean, Jacquie told you?"

"Yeah, when she saw what was happening with me today, she thought it best to tell me about your 'special powers'," Elle said, just a bit dryly.

Bernard arched an eyebrow. "So you _do _remember what happened?"

"What?"

"You just said Jacqueline told you 'today'. 'Today' was four days ago. So you _do_ remember what happened."

"Of course I remember what happened," Elle snapped, though not with as much bitterness as could be expected. "You and Jack were getting in each other's grills again, and I stopped you from being meatheads. It was _great…_ up until I started blacking out, and you decided to save me–all the while quoting heavily from _Doctor Who. _ _Someone's_ been keeping secrets about how much they really know about a given TV show."

Tired or not, Bernard rolled his eyes. "I've been friends with Quentin for quite awhile, Elle. It's his favorite show; it figures I'd have watched it once or twice."

"Well you might have told me."

"I watched it with you too!"

"You_ tolerated_ it."

Bernard sighed exasperatedly. "Elle, I love you. I love spending time with you, which means that yes, sometimes I do things with you that I don't enjoy. But you like them, so I do them anyway, regardless of preference. It's give and take."

Elle crossed her arms. It annoyed her to no end that sometimes, when she wanted to get in a fight, Bernard was so levelheaded. It gave her nothing to work with. But why did she want to get in a fight with him anyway?

"What did Jack say that you got into a fight in the first place?" Elle asked. "I thought you guys had managed a neutral peace after the Deliquesce."

Bernard sighed again. Sighing a lot when they had these kind of talks was inevitable. "He brought up some old…_hostilities_."

"Hostilities?"

"And….other things," Bernard admitted. "But we've agreed to set them aside for the time being."

"Oh, that makes me feel _so_ much better," Elle said sarcastically. She snorted and looked down at her empty hands, fidgeting in her lap. "Just when I thought we'd drawn a line with him…or at least I had."

"I'm hard-pressed to be convinced of anything with him," said Bernard. "It's not that I believe him to be incapable of change, or that I don't believe he _has _changed for the better. But he has done that any number of times, and frankly…." He hesitated. "My concern is that he was more invested in you than he let on. When we came back from the Twilight Zone, he just walked away. Elle, Jack Frost _doesn't_ just walk away. He lays low, plans, plots and schemes his next go at things. And yes: that worries me. It would be just like him to still have some kind of…I don't know, _feelings_ for you, stronger feelings than just that of a big brother figure, and to just be hiding them away."

Elle observed him keenly. "Is that really what you're getting off of him?" she asked gently. "Or is that just your own insecurity talking?"

"I'm not _insecure_," Bernard grumbled, his expression sullen. But given how exhausted he was, it looked more childish than stubborn, and Elle had to try very hard not to laugh at how adorable it was. Still, a chuckle snuck out.

"Come here," she said, patting the spot next to her on the bed. Bernard eyed her warily. "Come on, I'm not going to bite, for Gallifrey's sake! Although…biting _is_ excellent. It's like kissing. Only there's a winner."

Bernard gave her a long, bizarre look.

"I'm assuming you haven't watched that far ahead, then."

"If Jack could hear you now," Bernard muttered, crawling into the blankets beside her. "That guy can spout more innuendos than Captain Jack Harkness when he gets the idea to."

"Hey!" Elle nudged Bernard appreciatively at the _Who_ reference. Then she let out a little gasp and re-clasped her hands. Bernard shifted to watch her, worried.

"It hurts," she explained, grimacing. "Everywhere. It's like I have live wires that taper off in my hands, and when they're not grounded, I hurt everywhere." She blinked hard several times. "Especially in my head."

Bernard reached over and took both of her hands in his own. Immediately, Elle visibly relaxed. "How are you doing that?"

Bernard wove his fingers through hers. "Let's just say," he said, "that this process doesn't just affect you. The reason you're gaining these powers is because you're my Betrothed, right?"

Elle, who still had her eyes closed, was leaning against Bernard's shoulder and listening to the sound of his voice. "Mhmm."

"Well," said Bernard, smiling as he knew very well what she was doing, "because we're engaged, I'm going through the process with you. It's a part of the Bond." He hesitated a moment, knowing the subject he was about to broach was sensitive. "Until recently, you've been effectively blocking me out of your mind. The Bond magic is trying to break down the mental wall between us; which explains how I'm starting to feel your pain, and vice versa."

"Bond. James Bond," said Elle, almost sleepily, before rousing herself with a shake of her head. "But wait a minute. _Your_ pain?"

Bernard grimaced. "I've had a headache all morning. That part's me. Sorry."

With a laugh, Elle smiled into his arm. "It's fine." He slipped his arm around her. "Did you miss me when I was sleeping?"

Now it was Bernard's turn to laugh. "You've no idea," he said, looking down at her bed tousled hair fondly.

"Good." Elle sighed, and looked up at him. "So. As fabulous as it would be, I can't be around you all the time, constantly holding your hand...or rather, the other way around." She frowned. "Since we're both involved, and both subject to this pain, it's kind of hard to figure out whose worse off. Anyway, what do we do? Any ideas?"

"Yes, actually. One." Lifting both of their hands while still intertwined, Bernard held her wrists upward. "The trick is both to block your magic enough to stop it from acting out–a necessary precaution, for the time being–and to keep a little of my magic with you. Almost like a charm." As he said this, two identical golden bracelets appeared, weaving themselves onto Elle's wrists. They were a simple, inconspicuous set of gold bands about an inch wide that fit snugly, but not so much as to be chafing.

"You can still use your magic in small doses," Bernard told her, "and you probably don't need to wear them all the time; taking them off at night might be a good idea." He released her hands. Elle was surprised when a bolt of pain didn't greet her. Instead, the bracelets around her wrists began to grow warm, almost buzzing. It wasn't alarming, just…strange. And oddly comforting.

"O….kay," Elle said, observing the devices with interest as she rotated her wrists thoughtfully. "That's certainly different. Nice different, though. I don't exactly like blowing up my surroundings involuntarily. Speaking of which, I should probably…"

"Already on it."With a dismissive wave of his hand the room was returned to its former state of tidiness, all of the furniture and appliances restored to their correct state and location.

Elle gasped. "So _that's_ how you keep the house so clean your half of the week!" Her jaw was dropped in outrage. "Jealous! You've gotta teach me how to do that."

"Later," he said, stifling a yawn. "I don't think either of us are up to expending any energy right now." He frowned, thinking back on the mirage she'd crated to fool the others earlier. "If you can't even do that, how did you manage an illusion that complicated?"

"Memory projection," Elle said with a tired shrug. Being snuggled up to her fiancé was making her sleepy, regardless of six days in a coma or not. "It's just a skip and a hop from telepathy, really. I just summoned up a memory from my recent past, projected it onto my surroundimgs, and voila...you know what, you have an _extremely _soporific effect on me right now, mister."

"It's the Bond," Bernard said, burrowing down into the blankets, eyes already closing. "If I'm tired right now, you're tired. Sorry."

With a sigh, Elle slid down beside him and rolled over. "I must be affecting you too then. Like I said, you can go…" she yawned cavernously. "…Weeks without sleep if you choose to."

"I don't like to anymore," Bernard agreed, slipping his arm around her waist.

"Why? If I could, I'd be doing it all the time. Imagine what I could get done…"

"Because you're right," he admitted, "You are affecting me. Why would I stay awake for weeks, when I can come home to you every night?"

Elle smiled into her pillow, setting her hand over his and silently wishing she could sleep like that for another six days. Because whenever Bernard was there, she didn't have the nightmares. As corny as that sounded, it was completely true.

There was a long, quiet pause. "I was scared I'd lost you," Bernard whispered, nearly certain she had fallen asleep. "When you didn't wake up, I thought…maybe I'd hurt you. I couldn't…Elle, I…" He buried his face in her hair. "I'm sorry."

"It wasn't your fault, Bernard," Elle whispered back. Behind her, Bernard stiffened ever so slightly. It was strange, but not unpleasant, when Bernard showed his more vulnerable side. Despite how he had acted during the events of the pocket watch incident, he didn't normally break down. If anything, he blew up. Only with Elle did he ever fall apart, and only a few rare times had he ever really done that. "I'm not going anywhere. At least, not anywhere you can't follow."

Bernard nodded his head mutely, content with the evidence of proof. She was still his Elle alright; and nothing would change that. Nothing would make him question that again. Not Jack, not magic, and not his own insecurities. Nothing.

Unfortunately, they were both completely wrong.

* * *

**THIS WAS SO FRIGGIN HARD TO WRITE, HOLY FRICK. PLUS THEN IT CAME OUT ALL FEELSY AND FILLERY WITH HARDLY ANY PLOT TO SPEAK OF AND URGGHH I HOPE ITS OKAAAAYYYYY**

**I don't think I'm alone with this sentiment this week either. It's been hard for us TSC writers of late. I am just so done with Writer's Block, OMFG. **_**Hopefully**_** now that I got this part out of the way, my creative juices can get flowing again. **

**Still, it's good to write a little Bernora dialogue, and give Bernard a chance to speak his mind. This story is probably going to be even more talking heads than TEC was, so PUT ON YOUR FULL BODY ARMOR PEOPLE. THE DIALOGUE WILL MESS YOU UP!**

**A shoutout to both**_** SafyreSky**_** and **_**WinterFrost15**_** for their amazing work, I've been absolutely flattered by their portrayals of Elle in both of their stories. You guys are awesome. Truly awesome.**

**And thank YOU to all of those who left such lovely reviews on the last chapter. I really had to dig deep for any kind of solution to the cliffhanger I left on last chapter. That was my last completed chapter, so now I'm up to date; I can't make any promises on the timing for the next chapter, but input does help! **

**Please leave some feedback! I know this wasn't the most exciting of chapters but hey, better than nothing (I hope.) There was Kasper, of **_**SafyreSky's Crystal Springs**_** fame! And there were Jack-being-a-snarky-butt moments! AND huge amounts of Bernora fluff㈳8 Hopefully that counts for something.**

**-Ana **


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Houston, We Have A Problem

ELLENORA'S CHOICE : _Au Revoir, _by _OneRepublic_

Santa was wise enough to figure that despite Jack's rather inappropriate undertone, he had a point: Bernard was wiped out, and Elle was bound to be not much better off herself. It was likely that neither of them would be coming out of that bedroom for awhile...though, not for the reasons Jack had stated.

Reassured by the fact that if something were terribly wrong with Elle, Bernard would be letting him know about it in no time flat (once he found out), Scott decided to disband the remaining members of the small council. Jack and Jacqueline went to their rooms gladly, eager for a decent night's sleep for the first time in almost a week. Carol went off to give Buddy a bath and put him to bed, while Santa himself headed back to his office.

He had a few things to take care of before retiring for the night. Bernard, Jack, and Jacqueline had all left their own lists of things for him to review or approve each day; but given how much he had been on the floor, he hadn't had the time all week. Now he had quite the bit of catch up work to do. He would be happy if he got half of it done tonight…

He went immediately to his desk organizer. It was a three tiered metal filing system, made of silver and gold. The bottom was labeled IMPORTANT, the next level CRITICAL, and the top tier URGENT. On the top of the Urgent pile today was a worn envelope. Santa picked it up to examine it—and his face fell.

"Oh gingersnaps," he sighed, eying the familiar script. Reluctantly, he reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a similar letter, one he had received a good two years prior. It was written in the same handwriting and addressed the same way.

TO:

Santa Claus

The North Pole

FROM:

Annise Connelly

1350 East Hill Drive

Seattle, WA

The address it had sent from was different of course, but then, her family no longer resided in Hawaii. The Connelly's lived in a completely different place, with a completely different background and social class than the small farming family they had been before.

He paused a moment to wonder if he should let Elle see the letter first; but then, realizing that it was addressed to him in his official capacity as Santa, he decided against it. He took a letter opener and slit the envelope, tipping it to let the paper fall out.

The stationary was thick and cream colored, nearly parchment, as opposed to the notebook paper the first letter had been written on. Also, this was typed neatly, in an expensive looking font instead of number two pencil.

_Dear Sir, _the letter began. Well, that was different.

_I am writing to you regarding a situation that has become increasingly hopeless over the past few months. I am contacting you in the hopes that your particular resources and skill set will be of service to me in my business endeavors._

"Okay…" This just continued to get weirder and weirder. He would have wondered if this even came from Annise at all, if it weren't for the next sentence.

_This letter is regarding my sister, Ellington Sophia Connelly. She is nineteen years old, five foot six inches tall with curly brown hair and light blue eyes. She previously attended the University of Washington's School of the Arts, and resided at the same address this letter has been mailed from: 1350 East Hill Drive. I'm sure you have some kind of database in your facility that can check my facts for accuracy._

"Wow, someone's grown up," Santa muttered, not exactly happily. It always hurt him to see young people forced to grow up too quickly; to miss out on a part of their childhood that could have been magical, for lack of a better term. He knew that Annise attended a rather snooty private school in the Seattle area, and that Elle had been much the same way when she'd first arrived; but really, this was a bit much.

_In case you are wondering over the tone of this address, I am writing this correspondence in my Business Letter writing class. My apologies for the formality._

Scott smiled slightly, feeling a bit better. Even having spent two years without Elle around, Annise had definitely retained some of that dry wit her oldest sister was known for.

_It has been two years since I have seen my sister face to face. I have, on occasion, spoken with her over the phone; but such conversations have proved to be unhelpful in gaining information that might be relevant to her whereabouts. Ellington herself has been unwilling to supply any information herself, and remains oddly secretive—even with me, and she used to tell me nearly everything. _

_Her best friend, Jacqueline Frost, disappeared at the same time. We have neither spoken with nor attempted to locate Ms. Frost at this time. She and her family, who formerly resided at 1252 Winters Street, also vanished from traceable records._

_My father, Phillip Connelly, of Markson-Connelly Enterprises, has used his considerable wealth and resources to search for Ellington's location privately. I personally disagree with his methods, but can understand the sentiment behind them. _

_In short, we believe my sister to be either kidnapped or under duress. _

_I understand that it is typical in your line of work to make a seasonal request. This is my only request, sir. I believe I speak for my entire family when I say that we wish wholeheartedly for Ellington to be found, and returned home._

_In return, I can reliably guarantee my compliance and obedience in the forthcoming year. I trust this proposition is satisfactory, and that you will not hesitate to contact me for further details as to our arrangement._

_Yours in Business,_

_Annise Olivia Connelly_

_P.S. Merry Christmas._

Scott sighed deeply and pushed the button hidden under the edge of his desk, summoning the Head Elves. Sleep deprived or not, he needed their presence immediately. Bernard wasn't making any progress convincing Elle to return home, and now things had escalated. Rolling his chair backward and kicking his boots up onto the desk, Santa stared up at the gilded ceiling.

"Ho, boy."

This was getting worse and worse.

* * *

"Holy crap." Elle was standing beside Bernard in the study, reading the letter over Bernard's shoulder.

"That kid has got some _serious_ business speak for a twelve year old," Bernard said with a shake of his head.

"Well yeah. I mean, growing up in our household she heard enough of Dad's business interactions to pick up quite a bit of the lingo." Elle frowned. "But that's hardly what I meant. Bernard, she's done it again. The memory of her writing the first letter was removed when we came to this reality. But she's done the same thing, _a second time_."

"A traumatic family event has occurred, and she writes to Santa." Bernard stared at the letter thoughtfully. "Some things never change."

"Elle, I'm not going to beat around the bush," Scott said directly. "I know you have your reservations about going home, but now, my hands are tied." He gestured to the letter.

"What do you mean?"

"When a child writes a letter to Santa asking for something," Bernard explained, "The acting Santa is duty bound to grant the item as close to the original request as possible."

"But she's not asking for an item!" Elle argued, snatching the paper from him.

"She's asking for _you_," Bernard said, just a bit sharply. He rubbed his face with one hand in irritation. "That counts."

"Great, now I'm a thing."

"That's not what we meant," said Bernard carefully.

Elle rolled her eyes and scanned the letter, looking for a technical loophole. "Okay, so…you're saying now I'm forced to go back?"

"Yes," Scott said. He cast a wary glance at Bernard. "And…"

"And what?" Bernard snapped. Elle gave him a look of disbelief. "Sorry."

"And," Scott said sternly, "you're going to have to come up with a pretty good cover story for where you've been all this time, and why you will have to _continue_ to remain hush hush about things."

"But sir, I thought I had permission to tell my family," Elle said, casting a sideways look at Bernard. That was what he had told her, after all. She had assumed that he'd gotten permission first—Bernard wasn't one to suggest things that weren't allowed.

"That is in an ideal situation," Scott clarified. "This has gotten more complicated—_too_ complicated. And frankly, from the way your family sounds, don't you think getting them to accept the idea of your being engaged _at all_ will be enough trouble as it is?" He stared vacantly at the letter in her hand. "It seems like they've changed a lot over the past two years."

"And Daddy isn't really one to let go easily, either," Elle admitted. "Especially not his girls. Going to college was almost more hassle than it was worth…he was proud, but worried more than Mom did." Beside her, Bernard swallowed hard. "That's why I didn't stay to say goodbye in the first place. I was concerned he would put me into protective confinement or something."

"Sounds a little drastic," Scott said, alarmed.

"No kidding. But Dad doesn't like things to be out of his control."

"Yikes." Scott shuddered. Elle shrugged dismissively.

"_Anyway,_" said Bernard, redirecting the conversation, "if I'm not mistaken, we have to comply with the request by Christmas, correct?"

"Well, yes," said Santa. "But considering I need you two here for the Big Day, well… the sooner the better, really."

"Right." Elle squared her shoulders. "Well. What are we waiting for then?"

Bernard raised an eyebrow. "Seriously? It took me forever to even convince you to even _consider_ the idea, and now all of a sudden you're _okay_ with it?"

"No, I'm not _okay_ with it," Elle snapped back. "I'm basically going home to lie to their faces; I don't exactly relish that, you know!" She crossed her arms, looking very distraught.

Santa gave Bernard a look like pretty much screamed 'nice going there, guy.'

"Besides," Elle said, chewing a thumbnail nervously, "it was Jacquie and Carol who really convinced me. But I had begun reconsidering since then as well…I just have had a hard time committing to the idea. It's not exactly going to be easy, to say the least. And I hate the idea that, well, I'm going to feel like an outsider in my own family."

There was a long pause. Bernard moved over and tried to take her hand, but Elle re-crossed her arms and turned her body away from him, just slightly. "How soon do we need to leave?"

At this, Scott looked instantly apologetic—which neither elf took for a good sign. "In light of the most recent events," he said, "especially considering Elle's recent trauma, I wish I could give you some more time to prepare. As it is now, I don't have much of a choice. I'm afraid you two will need to head out first thing in the morning."

This came as a blow to both Elle and Bernard. Though they had not expected much time, this was absolutely paltry. But there was no point in arguing, Elle knew. She had been putting it off for far too long already.

"I'm sorry, you two." Santa really felt bad for them. This was hard enough, without a time crunch. "I wish there was something else I could do, but we're just out of options. This letter sealed the deal."

"Right," said Bernard with a heavy sigh. It was going to be another long night, and an even longer day after that. "I'll work on making the arrangements, then."

"I'm going to…just…go pack," Elle said stiffly. "If you don't need me anymore, sir." Her body language was radiating inner turmoil, and Scott wasn't about to deny her the space she needed.

"By all means," said Scott, watching her with concern. "Let me know if there's anything I can do to help you two along—on your trip," he clarified. "Before or after you leave. I'll make sure you have a way to contact me."

"Thank you." Elle gave him a short nod and left the study, arms still crossed protectively over her chest.

Scott gave a long low whistle once she was effectively out of earshot. "Looks like you've got your work cut out for you, Number One," he said pityingly. "From a position of experience, I can say for certain that I do _not _envy you."

Bernard stared at the doors Elle had closed behind her with a mixture of apprehension and doubt—and an overlying sense of emotion that could only be described as a tightness in the chest, almost suffocating. This was undoubtedly Elle's feelings seeping through the Bond. Fantastic, now he had to work with not only his issues with the situation but hers as well.

Then, with some remorse, he realized that his irritation and worry was undoubtedly affecting her too.

He sighed. "Respectfully, Santa? You don't even know the half of it."

* * *

ELLENORA'S CHOICE: _Atlantis_, by _Ellie Goulding_

Elle wasted no time beating a quick retreat back to the suites. She was growing angry, much to her own surprise; and her mind was reeling.

Why the hell had she waited so long to see her parents? Why hadn't she just, made the time, like she made time for her movies and shows? _My god,_ she thought. They're _my FAMILY! Worth so much more, much more important than that transitory stuff; especially when…_

…When she would live so much longer than them.

Why had she wasted two years of her time, ignoring them and blocking them out?

Now, Elle couldn't just be happy to see them again without being furious with herself for waiting so long. They had changed, so much more than Elle had realized. And that was just from the example of one letter from Annise, who was really the sanest person in the family besides Elle. Who knew how badly off the others were? How much they had changed? Dottie had always had a rash streak that got her into trouble…Elle had always been the one to pull her out of it. Surely she hadn't done anything too stupid in Elle's absence?

As per typical Elle behavior, Elle was shoving items with much more enthusiasm than was necessary into a suitcase she had been keeping under the bed from their last vacation. Last? This was _hardly_ a vacation.

Mind whirling, Elle found herself subconsciously reaching out with her mind for any available mental connections she had. Bernard? No way. Really not the time; she would just end up biting his head off, so to speak. Jack? Nope. He and Bernard still had some issues; she didn't need to add to that ever growing list.

Jacqueline?

She reached out in her mind and found the familiar light blue chill that she associated with Jacquie's consciousness. It was dormant, she could tell. Sleeping. But she really needed a friend right then. She gave a gentle nudge with her mind.

_Jacquie?_

She continued to yank open drawers and take out necessary travel items, waiting for a response. There was a slight shift in temperature, but nothing else. She nudged again. The cloud of light blue began to glow slightly, and stirred.

_Elle? _ Came Jacquie's slightly slurred reply_. _

_Yeah, _Elle replied, stuffing some socks into another bag. _It's me._

_Wha...why are you up right now? It's like two in the morning._

Elle gave a rueful laugh. _Yeah well. Something came up, so now I'm up._

Jacquie mentally sighed. _And now so am I. I'm guessing Bernard's not there?_

With a frown, Elle asked,_ How did you know that?_

_Because, _Jacquie replied slowly, _if he was, he'd be fussing over you himself and not giving you time to contact me._

_Oh, _was all Elle managed to get out.

There was a long pause; so long Elle assumed Jacquie had fallen asleep again. She had just decided it was probably for the better, she needed to sort her problems out on her own, when—

_Alright, I'm up. What's going on?_

Elle let out her breath, and stopped twisting the life out of her left slipper with anxiety. _Thanks, Jacquie. I know it's an inconvenience, but—_

_Don't be silly. You were there for me when I was having issues! We've always been there for each other, Elle; I don't see a reason for that to change now. Besides, I can sleep later. Or whenever. Consider it a benefit of having an immortal being as your best friend, eh?_

_Just…thanks, _Elle said again.

_Don't mention it. Now, do you wanna try that mental conference thing we came up with last time?_

_It won't be too draining, will it? Bernard would be on my case for the next week if I zonked out again from using too much magic._

_Hardly. Your telepathy should suffice._

_Okay then._

Elle sat down on the edge of her bed and closed her eyes. After a moment, a strange sensation as of being sucked inside one's own body came over her, along with a sting like an invisible slap to her face.

"OW!"

She opened her eyes, and found herself in Starbucks, with Jacquie on the other side of a small round table. Her cheek was red, too.

"We _really_ need to work on the entry protocol," Jacquie said dryly, setting a chilly hand to her cheek. "That fault is really starting to tick me off."

"Noted," Elle agreed, setting a hand to her sore cheek. "Oh! I was wondering when we would get this desktop!" She looked around the room at a memory from not long before she'd returned to the Pole. "You know, they do this in _Doctor Who_ too." She observed Jacqueline's moderately uncomfortable expression closely. "You still don't know what I'm talking about, do you?"

"Not a clue. But memory projection certainly has its perks," Jacquie conceded, summoning a hot cocoa from the bar. "So. What's going on? Why are we up in the middle of the night having a conference call when I'm literally down the hall from you?"

Elle placed a mental order (that worked, apparently) for a caramel apple cider and folded her hands on the table. Even considering the late hour, she hardly needed caffeine to keep her awake. The jitters were the last thing she needed right now. "I didn't want to raise suspicion," she said vaguely.

Jacquie gave her the all-knowing friend look. "You mean you didn't want to raise_ Bernard's_ suspicion."

Elle set her head on the table. "_Fine_," she groaned, Jacquie giggling slightly at her friend's melodrama, "I didn't want Bernard to find out. Because of these." she held up her wrists to display the bracelets. "Whenever I'm conscious he can sense what I'm doing. Right now, I don't want him asking questions."

The frosty sprite (who was, by the way, still in her nightie) looked puzzled. "I still don't get that," she said, adjusting her grip on her mug.

"The bracelets?" Elle lifted her gaze from the table up to her friend. "They block most of my magic, for now. I…kinda lost control of it when I woke up from my coma," she said, rubbing the back of her neck in embarrassment.

"No, not that. Nice bling though, and definitely a wise idea. Considering that you use the memory projection for these calls, it didn't exactly work on me earlier. You really decimated that bedroom." Jacquie took a sip of her beverage. "Look, Elle; at some point you're going to have to stop being afraid of actually sharing your feelings with him. It's like you refuse to be vulnerable with the things that really bother you. It's going to become a problem—in fact, I think it already is."

Elle didn't reply. Instead she silently summoned her drink from the bar and wrapped her hands around it, savoring the scent.

"But, I assume that's not what you wanted to talk about."

"No. Not quite." It wasn't as hard bringing up her family with Jacquie as it was with Bernard, but it was still difficult. Anytime she thought about her old life was a lot worse than the slap across the face she got from the 'fault' in a telepathic connection. Even seeing other people together as a family—including the Claus family—was like a punch to the gut.

"I have to go back, in the morning," Elle said slowly. "To Seattle. To home."

Jacquie stiffened in her chair and sat up straighter. "Woah. Really?! That fast? What happened?"

"Annise wrote Santa a letter," said Elle simply, with a shrug. "Just like she did the first time."

There was a long pause as Jacquie stared off into the distance in disbelief. "Oh my icicles," she said eventually. "That is…news! Woah! So after two years, she just up and decides to contact _Santa_? I mean, I know its Christmastime but knowing your family-"

"She wrote him a letter from her Business Letter writing class," Elle said. "You can imagine the format."

"Youch."

"Basically she asked for me to be 'returned home'. She didn't understand that she was asking exactly the right person." She sighed. "So since she asked for it in place of a gift for Christmas, Santa is 'duty-bound' to try and give it to her. Give _me_ back."

"Aww," Jacquie cooed. "That's actually really sweet when you think about it." Seeing Elle's annoyed look, she sobered. "Sorry, just saying."

Elle grimaced. "I feel like an object. And what's worse, I'm not going to have time to tell my family I'm coming down."

"Why not?" asked Jacquie, genuinely confused. "Couldn't you call them? Like, right now even. At least give some kind of warning."

"I'm not going to just up and call them in the middle of the night, after three months of silence!" Elle glared down at the oak tabletop with no small amount of remorse and irritation. "Not that showing up on their doorstep after two years of no visits with my fiancé in tow will be much better." She sighed, and rested her chin on her hands. "I really should have told them about Bernard from the beginning."

"Yeah, that probably would have been good. I know your dad, Elle; he's probably not going to take it well. I mean, even _my _dad would be outraged if I showed up with a fiancé after running away from home for two years. He'd have the poor guy's head on a spike!"

"And to think my dad was the easygoing one before the pocket watch incident," said Elle dryly. "Not everything changed for the better."

"He's still a good guy," Jacquie insisted. "He loves you, your sisters and your mom to bits. I'm sure his overprotective side is merely from a fear of losing you. I mean, look at Annise, right? Somehow, she remembered to write to Santa, even though technically she'd never done that in this reality. Elle, your father was _dying_ back in Hawaii. I'm nearly certain that some of that fear and incredible sense of loss is still clinging to his psyche. It makes sense, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, it does. I've thought of that," Elle admitted. "But it doesn't make anything easier. Jacquie, what if they don't…_approve_? Of us? Of him? I don't…I don't want to have to choose between my family and Bernard."

"Haven't you already?"

"Not…not completely. There's still a way I can make this work—but only if Scott can allow me to tell them what I'm really doing up here. If I don't tell them everything now, I'm nearly certain that I'll-" Elle's throat caught. "Well, that I'll lose them. For good."

Jacqueline stared at her friend for a long while, as her friend stared in turn at the table. She could only imagine what was at stake for Elle; and the worst part was most of it rode on the shoulders of the Number Two. Bernard couldn't really be expected to clean up Elle's mess—though, he could be considered a necessary part of its solution—so that left a huge burden on Elle. That 'burden' was partially of Elle's own making, true; but could telling your parents the things Elle had to tell hers ever have been classed _easy_? Of course not. Not that most people ever had the problem of explaining new-found magical abilities and a new species.

"I know it's hard to see now," Jacquie said eventually, stirring her cocoa. "But these kind of things usually do work themselves out. I'm sure when you _are_ face-to-face with them it won't be nearly as bad as you're anticipating. Have some hope, okay? They are your family after all, and they love you. I mean, give them some credit. After everything you went through together…" she trailed off, not needing to finish the sentence as the effect was already all over Elle's face.

Elle was staring at her, a vague look of horror in her eyes. "Please tell me you haven't mentioned _that _to Bernard."

"No, no of course not," Jacquie agreed quickly, and froze. "Wait a minute—_you_ haven't told him yet?!"

"No. Not exactly…"

"Oh my gods, child! What if one of _them_ brings it up?! What will you do then?!"

"You know they wouldn't," said Elle sternly, clasping her hands firmly together. A faint buzzing was coming from her bracelets, like a warning. She _was _getting upset, after all, and her loss of control seemed to come with distress.

"Elle: that was pretty much the most traumatic thing a family can go through together. How could you…how could you not tell him? Not _warn_ him?"

"There was never a good time," Elle said lamely. She couldn't even begin to describe how many times she'd known she should tell him, but hadn't.

"You've had _two years_ to find the right time!"

"Well, _I DIDN'T! _ And this isn't helping!"

Both girls were panting, glaring in frustration at the other. Finally Jacqueline fell back in her chair, defeated.

"Fine. I'm sorry." She rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Look Elle, maybe you should just go. You've been here quite a while, and you should finish packing. I'm sorry that I wasn't of much help this time. Really, I tried."

Elle set a comforting hand on her friend's chilly one, and sighed. "I know, Jacquie. This really is a beast of my own making; I shouldn't have dragged you into it. I'm the one who should be sorry, not you."

"Hey, what are friends for, right?" Jacqueline smiled weakly. "Really though. It's been an hour, and Bernard is worried about you, if those jangling bracelets mean anything." She was right. The bracelets were vibrating noisily against the tabletop. Elle felt a strange tingling overwhelm her body, washing over her from her fingertips in cold waves of nausea. She took a deep breath.

"No, I think…" Elle shivered and screwed her eyes shut. This was something she had used to do involuntarily back when her telepathy had still been more of a hindrance than a help.

"Elle? Elle!" Jacqueline recognized the signs. "Elle, talk to me." She gently shook her friend's arm. "Elle, come on…"

All of a sudden Elle's eyes flew open, dilated to pinpricks and super alert. She blinked several times, and cocked her head to the side, looking at Jacqueline as if for the first time.

"3.141592654," she said abruptly, and Jacquie frowned.

"What?"

"I've discovered a fault," Elle announced decisively. "Not quite right, really…3.14159265358979323846264338327950…" she rattled the numbers off with no signs of stopping.

"Elle!"

"Sorry." Elle shook her head and looked up at Jacqueline again—this time, her eyes were less crazed, but equally alert. "I've decided something." She peeked under the table at her shoes. Jacqueline tucked her head under the tabletop as well. Elle was still wearing Converse, though these were a light tan, almost white instead of the banana yellow ones she'd had earlier in the week.

"What's that?"

Elle looked up from the shoes and over to her friend, an earnest look on her face. "I am SO done, with Mr. Sandshoes."

Confused, Jacquie looked at the shoes again. "I wouldn't say they were _sandshoes,_ necessarily…"

"YES!" Elle cried, leaping up from her chair. "They are. It's time for the sandshoes to go." She ran to the nearest garbage bin, and—to Jacqueline's immense surprise—yanked off her Converse and tossed them in the trash, standing in the virtual Starbucks in nothing but her bare feet.

"Judoon platoon upon the moon," Elle intoned, looking around at the establishment with satisfaction. "Good thing this is only a memory…this would never fly in real life."

"Elle, what are you…" Jacquie began, puzzled beyond all belief as to what the elf was up to, when Elle suddenly leapt up onto the bar—bare feet and all—and created a silver service bell that she rang repeatedly, calling out in a raucous voice, "Order up! One fez and a bowtie for the Eleventh customer!"

"Elle, this is a memory. You can't just demand a fez and a bowtie—which I've _no_ idea why you'd even want those anyway—and expect to have them…"

A barista behind the counter handed Elle a TARDIS blue bowtie and a red velvet fez with a huge grin that Elle happily returned.

"…just handed to you," Jacquie finished with a sigh, and face-palmed. She had had her fangirl moments as well, of course; but Elle tended to take the title to an entirely new level—a higher plane, so to speak. "Okay then."

Elle, now wearing the fez and bowtie with a great deal of satisfaction, trotted back over to the table still barefoot.

"Really?" Jacquie asked, an eyebrow arched as she eyed the hat warily. "I guess you and Bernard will have something to talk about now. Definitely a conversation piece, if anything."

Elle frowned. "What?" she whined, adjusting her bowtie. "I wear a fez now, fezzes are cool."

"As are bowties, I presume." Swallowing her smile, Jacquie finished her drink and got up.

"Just you wait," Elle said wisely. "One day, Disney will make a movie about some kind of snow queen or princess or something, with frosty powers and everything, and I won't be able to get you to stop talking about it." She nodded resolutely, pointing the 'finger of judgment' at the winter sprite. "Mark my words! _You_ will be the ultimate fangirl too."

"Okay then," Jacqueline laughed. She brushed off her nightgown and hugged Elle, who she could feel was simply brimming with unused magical energy. "Woah there! You've got quite the buzz right now. Are you sure that wasn't coffee you were drinking?"

"Ha ha," said Elle dryly. "NO, it wasn't. And anyway, you know I hold my caffeine _like a boss_." She grinned at her intentional pun.

"Whatever it is, it's doing a number on your sarcasm," said Jacquie with a roll of her eyes. She smiled. "Goodnight, Elle."

"Goodnight? The night is young!" cried Elle with an energetic fist pump. "I'm going to finish the rest of season 7 by watching it on 3x speed while I pack! The words will be a bit garbled, but no matter! I'll have finished the Series faster than you can say 'Raxicoricofallipatorian'! Then I'll vacuum, and take a shower, and dress all in Eleventh Doctor cosplay! Oh, and I'll make a soufflé…" she trailed off. "Sorry. You get the picture."

Still chuckling at Elle's antics, Jacquie mentally withdrew from the memory, fading back into the reality of her own room and bed.

What a giant kid.

* * *

**What will Elle find when she returns to her reality? Why is she acting so spazzy? What giant secret is she keeping from Bernard? What is really going on with her family? SO MANY QUESTIONS…I can promise a few will be answered in the next chapter. (: I know this story is having a much slower build to action than TEC, but it is a bit less action based (as I'm sure you've noticed) and a lot more thoughtful, feelsy and interactive as far as the characters go. I hope I do everyone justice and not make anyone OOC, as much as possible (some OOC is, I'm afraid, inevitable by this point.) **

**For those of you who don't watch **_**Doctor Who, **_**I'm sorry if the references are a bit frustrating to you. What can I say, it's Elle's most recent obsession, and we know how those work …*sigh* The only thing I can suggest is to watch it for yourself. Hey, if you made it through the **_**Star Trek **_**and **_**LOTR **_**undertone of TEC, I'm sure you can struggle through this as well (and maybe learn a thing or two about the awesomeness of fantasy/sci-fi!)**

**Also, if I were allowed three categories instead of two, this would be more accurately labeled ANGST/FAMILY/ROMANCE. Just saying. **

**I would like to take a minute to endorse one of my fellow writers here. **_**WinterFrost15 **_**is doing some freaking awesome things over in **_**Frost and Fire. SERIOUSLY. **_**I have loved the story from the beginning, but now she has taken a very interesting twist on Elle and Bernard's relationship by allowing Jack to still have some feels for Ms. Elle, and THAT (while not being much of an active plotline in TEC2) is a VERY CAPTIVATING THING in her story. Really. Add in a Bernard that is much more aggressive (AND jealous) than I or **_**SafyreSky**_** has written him to be, and you have quite the combo for disastrous feels. You will find yourself caught up all too quickly and waiting anxiously for more. I'm pretty sure I've lost sleep over it already. So GO AND CHECK IT OUT PEOPLES, if you haven't been following it already.**

**It has come to my attention that I haven't done any DISCLAIMERS in awhile, so here goes:**

**-I do not own **_**The Santa Clause 1 2 or 3, **_**its canon characters *endless sobs* or any portion of its franchises. They belong to **_**Disney**_**.**

**-I do not own Starbucks—well, I'm sure we'd all like to think we own it a little, right? Right? I hope so, otherwise I just let my crazy side show for nothing o.O**

**-I do not own Jacqueline Frost. She belongs to the ever talented Dani (**_**SafyreSky**_**) who is the author of **_**Meet the Frosts**_** and **_**Crystal Springs. **_**I can only hope to portray Jacqueline's character with as much accuracy as possible and return her in sound health. (ALSO check out **_**Crystal Springs,**_** because it's almost complete and has been an absolutely incredible journey. She has done such a wonderful job, both with Elle and the story itself. So certainly go and read up that delightful word gold that is **_**Crystal Springs, **_**pronto!)**

**-I DO own Elle (Ellenora/Ellington) Connelly, and her family: Phillip, Josette, Annise and Dottie (Dorothy) Connelly, as well as their home in Seattle, WA (and AR in Hawaii.) **_**The Emissary Clause**_** was the first installment of this story, and all events referred to from its contents that are not owned by **_**Disney**_** as a part of the TSC universe are my intellectual property, unless otherwise stated. Please see my profile page for more information. **

**Drop a line, if you will. I'd love to hear your input on this chapter!**

**Until next time, **

**-Ana**


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Bromance and Souffles

ELLENORA'S CHOICE: _Follow You Down, _by _Zedd_

It was nearly four before Bernard returned to the Head Elf suites.

To start with, he'd needed to find Quentin. Bernard fully intended to leave him in charge of things this time, instead of Curtis (that would _not _be a mistake he made twice.) Besides this, he and Quentin were rather good friends, much like Jacquie and Elle were, and Bernard trusted him with his thoughts—something that could be said of very few others.

As it were, Quentin was still awake. His work in RDS was extended to all hours, as he didn't take regular schedules: oftentimes he would keep plugging away until exhaustion got the better of him. He was simply too busy, with too many ideas and projects to count— and anyway, getting carried away with a development was something that Curtis had learned from him.

When Bernard came in at around two thirty in the morning, he was in the process of building a crystalline microprocessor. He had enormous goggles over his eyes, and his goggles glued to a microscope—the finished product was the size of half of a pinky nail—with a pair of fine tweezers in one hand and a tiny soldering iron in the other. Both were under the lens with the device, as he was attempting to—

_BANG!_

The door to RDS opened with a great deal of force, much more than necessary, since the stickiness it used to have had been fixed with some WD-40 the morning before. The sudden noise startled the inventor, resulting in a false move, seven burnt circuits, and a blown fuse.

"AHHH!" Quentin cried out in frustration, kicking the table leg angrily. "What kind of cotton-headed ninnymuggins decides to come bombinating in here at this unholy hour and disturb me at a _crucial _point in the retrofitting process?" he bellowed. He looked up to find a frazzled looking Bernard in the doorway, and immediately calmed down. "Oh, it's you."

"Nice to see you too," Bernard replied, coming over and taking up a position closer to his friend. He leaned casually against what appeared to be a half assembled rocket, though his expression was far from casual.

Quentin took the dish from under his microscope out and examined it, Bernard watching with mild interest. Quentin still had his goggles on, which make his eyes appear hilariously enormous and very cross-eyed as he stared down at the miniscule object. If Bernard hadn't been in such a poor mood he would have laughed outright at how ridiculous he looked. Unfortunately the component sparked again, and a small wisp of smoke came up from the dish. The inventor rushed to a nearby sink and doused it in water, letting the tap run with a slightly irritated expression.

"Sorry for the interruption," said Bernard mildly.

"That was three month's work," Quentin said, still slightly irritably. He sighed, and tried to perk up. "But no matter. What's three months when you're as old as we are, eh?"

Quentin was actually very old, second only to Bernard in age. He had been the first recruit for the Workshop; he had been there almost from the beginning, which partially explained their friendship. He was fifteen hundred and fifty seven years old, and had been around to see technology come up from pretty much rock bottom. Quentin arguably knew more about it than anyone else on the planet, even considering people like Gates and Jobs. Quentin had been around long before them, and would most likely be around long after them; so he made it his business to advance the field in his spare time.

"That was my pet project, after the hologram projector," Quentin told Bernard, still looking down at the smoldering remnants remorsefully. For such a small gadget, it certainly caught fire well. "Granted, this technology probably won't be widespread for at least another twenty years. Still, worth getting a head-start on it. And it does tickle my fancy to have been the first one to invent a working model." He smiled faintly, and finally took note of Bernard's distraught face. "I say, what's happened? You look a little…grim."

Bernard sighed.

"So it has to do with Ms. Elle then," said Quentin humorously, moving to clean up his mess by the microscope. Bernard's jaw snapped shut abruptly, with an audible click.

"How did you know that?" he asked, a little sharply.

"How do I know anything?" Quentin responded. "I _observe_, Bernard. You have certain tells when it comes to Elle"—he paused— "some of which I would prefer not to expound upon."

Caught _extremely _off guard, Bernard turned an ungodly shade of red.

"In this instance, however, you've clearly told me you're having trouble with her," said Quentin, smirking at his friend's response. "So: what is it this time? Don't tell me she's pranked you by setting your alarm clock to play Skrillex again."

"No. And that wasn't funny, either!" said Bernard, pointing a finger at a sniggering Quentin.

"Yes, it was. Too bad you destroyed the video Elle had captured of the whole thing."

"It was humiliating," Bernard grumbled, crossing his arms. Then he looked up in horror. "How did you know there was a video anyway? I destroyed it as soon as I found the camcorder…and that was like four minutes later."

Quentin shrugged. "It's possible Elle programmed it to upload to my personal computer during the recording," he said dismissively.

"QUENT!"

The inventor shook his head. "Really, I don't know why you're surprised. Before Elle came, Curtis was too busy trying to keep his job to risk pranking you. It used to be me. Who else was going to do the job? And of course, I knew that we were much too close for you to hold a grudge against me."

"Yeah, well. Don't think I've forgotten all of them," said Bernard, recalling the details of some of the 'finer' products of Quentin's overactive creativity. "Placing that sonic pulse device on me so I short circuited every cocoa machine I came close to was just _cruel_."

"Ah, that was Christmas of 1876, wasn't it?" Quentin got a look of fond reverie on his face. "It _was _rather good," he mused, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

"And considering that it was the hundred year anniversary of America's first Christmas as a nation, and the stakes were _extraordinarily high, _it really helped me keep my cool. Thanks."

"But I did parachute in that giant thermos of Judy's finest drink before we hit T minus sixty," argued Quentin.

"Sonic technology hadn't even been invented yet!"

"Not on this planet anyway," said Quentin with a sly grin.

Bernard groaned. "Please, spare me the Whovian quotes. I've been having plenty at home."

"Ah, good! Then it's only a matter of time before you break down and watch it too!"

A glare. "Never going to happen."

"We'll see."

Then there was the time you stole _all_ of my left foot shoes…"

"That was a _half-_Christmas prank. It was _July._"

"And I didn't realize it for over a week…"

"What? I was getting tired of you always starting the day on the wrong foot."

"It wasn't funny."

"Oh, don't be a sod. It was _absolutely_ funny. Your already exaggerated stride was even more pronounced for a week _afterward_."

Bernard sighed again, and rubbed his face to hide his smile. Quentin knew how to cheer him up, even when annoying him. Something Elle knew how to do as well, come to think of it…

"Right, Elle," Quentin said, as though reading his mind. Luckily, that was something _only _Elle did. He slipped a microfiber case over the microscope. "Do you want to tell me what's going on?"

"It's her family," Bernard said, trying to keep any note of annoyance out of his tone and, for the most part, succeeding. "Her sister Annise specifically."

"I remember Annise," Quentin said, thinking back to the time the girl had spent in that very room back when she'd paid a visit during her Emissary tour. "Sweet girl—and smart, like her sister. To be honest, I think Curtis fancied her a little," he said confidentially.

Bernard made a face. "I don't even want to _think _about what Elle would have to say about that," he said, a tad disgusted. "Even though that was _before_ the Krumholtz-Breslin Syndrome kicked in, I don't expect she'd be too thrilled." At the time, Curtis had looked little more than nine years old, to Annise's ten years.

"True."

"_Anyway,"_ Bernard continued, "Annise wrote another letter to Santa, similar to the one she sent the first time—well to a point."

"To a point?"

"It was written from her 'Business Letter writing class'. You can imagine the format."

"I see."

With a roll of his eyes, Bernard went on. "The vocabulary of that kid could shame a lawyer. But the disturbing part wasn't the style; it was what she asked for." He grew solemn. "Quent, she asked for Elle to come home in place of her Christmas present. You know what that means."

Quentin whirled around, his long braid of blond hair whipping around with him. "Oh! Oh. Oh, that's not good. Not good at all." He wrung his hands a bit. "So what are you going to do? What did Santa say?"

"What do you think?" Bernard said, miserable. "He's literally _bound_ to give her what she wished for—or well, close to it. I mean…" He trailed off, a slightly sick look on his face.

"Bernard? What is it?"

"It just occurred to me," Bernard said, after a moment's hesitation, "Annise wants Elle to come home. Santa only has to let her have Elle for _awhile—_that's the _as close to it_ part; you know. But…"

"'But' what?" Quentin pressed.

Bernard chewed his lip worriedly. "I just can't help thinking: what if she doesn't _want_ to come back?" he said quietly, his eyes downcast.

Quentin stared at his friend with a mixture of sympathy and skepticism. "Bernard," he said, equally quiet, "don't be daft. Elle loves you. She's not going to just _not come back_." He thought. "Besides: she likes it here. Why wouldn't she come back? We've been through this whole routine before: don't make me bring up the pocket watch incident."

"_Because,"_ Bernard said, his patience wearing painfully thin (especially at mention of the 'incident',) "for as much as she doesn't let me in her mind, Elle's thoughts are remarkably easy to read. Her family is everything to her, and _I _took that away. _I _did, because I selfishly wanted her for myself. And all it takes is for her to realize that, and…" He snapped his fingers. "I've lost her—this time, for good."

"Well, if you think like that you will!" said Quentin, more impatient than he normally would have been, had Bernard not just started his own little pity party. "Listen, B. You're already assuming her family won't like you…which is _probably _true."

"Oh, thanks."

"But what you're _not _considering is that despite that, you might be able to _change their minds."_ Quentin gave Bernard a look. "You're not the only one who loves her, you know. If they see that she's truly happy with you, and they _really _want what's best for her, then they should try to set their differences aside and accept you."

"And if they don't?"

"If they don't," said Quentin firmly, "then you'll just have to make _them _fall in love with you, too."

"Oh boy." Bernard rubbed his face as though the very thought had already overwhelmed him. "You're right, of course," he admitted. "It's just the putting it into action."

"Don't be a defeatist, Bernard," Quentin said, adopting a sagely expression. "You're totally capable of this, if you set your mind to it. You've dealt with much worse."

"Have I?" asked Bernard rhetorically. "Cause it doesn't feel like it."

"Yes. That glitter bomb Curtis involuntarily created, by blowing up the canister?"

"Oh, good grief."

"That was pretty epic, especially for Curtis."

"Considering he lost his job, I'd say he probably didn't think it very 'epic'."

"Ah, but you didn't speak to him about it afterwards. _I _did, and I can vouch for the fact he thought it was pretty impressive."

Bernard gave a small smile at the idea of Curtis boasting about the mishap that had gotten him fired, as though it were a planned occurrence and totally awesome, with being fired an unexpected side-effect. Typical Curtis move.

"You and Elle made it out of that one together," Quentin reminded him. "You'll get through this as well. Mark my words."

"Thanks, Quent," Bernard said, moderately reassured. His doubts still plagued him, but for the most part he felt more optimistic about the possible outcomes to a situation that could only be described as preposterously daunting.

Quentin didn't reply, but got up and went to his computer. He knew Bernard would need a moment to mentally process everything they had spoken of, so he decided to check his emails.

After about three minutes of silence, Bernard's thoughts were broken in on by the sound of Quentin bashing the side of his computer CPU. "For the love of peppermint candy," he said, frowning deeply. Then he yelled over his shoulder towards the doorway to the adjoining room, "KEVIN! The WiFi's out!"

A few moments later, a short rotund elf with square glasses came into the room, nodding respectfully at Bernard as he pushed in a rolling cart filled with machinery parts that probably went with the rocket.

"Lance?" Quentin asked, looking moderately surprised. "Where's Kevin?"

"Kevin's not on the night shift," Lance replied with a shrug. "I'm the only one here right now, and I don't know how to reset the quasi-encoded server."

Quentin rolled his eyes massively. "FINE, I'll do it myself. We seriously need to revisit how many nights off the tech people get. I can't find anyone anymore!" He glanced over at Bernard. "Sorry, mate. I've got a situation to deal with."

"I understand completely," said Bernard with a sigh, then caught himself; realizing how Quentin was true: he sighed a lot when thinking about Elle. That wasn't necessarily a nice revelation, either…

On his way to the door, Bernard remembered the real reason he'd come. "Oh, wait! I did mention that I'm leaving you in charge of the Workshop, didn't I?"

Quentin turned around slowly, eyes shining mischievously. "Really?"

"Don't get any ideas," said Bernard in his stern 'remember I'm still your boss, not just your best friend' tone.

Quentin pulled himself together and nodded. "Absolutely," he said resolutely. "I'll use the utmost caution. Besides, I never pranked anyone but you, remember? Well, and maybe Curtis. I'll keep him in line."

This was true. Ultimately, Bernard had no doubt that the situation was in good hands.

* * *

When Elle came to from the conference call, she was still sitting on the edge of her bed. To her surprise though, someone was standing in front of her—and that someone wasn't Bernard.

"Oh hello, Cocoa," Elle said, setting a hand to her throbbing cheek again. The 'fault' was unfortunately an in-and-out thing. "I hope I haven't kept you waiting long."

The elf smiled. "Not at all," she replied. "I've only just gotten here. How long were you like that? Sitting there, that is."

"Mm, about an hour," Elle replied, stretching. She smiled at the elf. "I was just having a visit with Jacquie. "

Cocoa was one of the higher kitchen elves—in fact, she was Judy's _second_ intern. Unlike Abby, who was the first intern and worked at the Elfsburg Grille, Cocoa was in charge of actively monitoring the status of the Workshop's Kitchen, as well as supplying food and beverages to the higher ups. She and Elle had become acquainted during Elle's last birthday, and ever since she had taken to assisting Elle around the house in her spare time. That was mostly an excuse to spend time together, though, as Cocoa reminded Elle very much of Annise and was more readily available then Judy or Abby.

"So why'd you come?" Elle asked, sorting through the luggage beside her. She had really been in a state of mind before she had spoken to Jacquie—she'd packed her socks in her carry-on and her notebooks in her duffel bag with her underwear. Nothing made sense.

"Well, Bernard sent me to check on you…"

Elle sighed. "Of course he did."

The elf smiled softly. "He certainly_ does_ worry about you. Anyway, I came to ask if you wanted a late dinner," Cocoa said, sitting on the bed beside her. "Or a very early breakfast, seeing as it's nearly morning. I thought after almost a week of not eating, you'd be pretty hungry."

Elle thought about her stomach for the first time since she'd woken up. The drink she'd had with Jacquie had almost been an afterthought. "Actually, I think I _am _a little…" She was cut off by the sound of her own stomach rumbling. Both girls dissolved into giggles. "Okay, _maybe _a lot hungry."

"Well, what can I get you?"

Elle tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Well…" All of a sudden, her bracelets began vibrating again. She frowned down at them, as a strange sense of hyperactive energy began to wash over her. "Oh dear…" she closed her eyes for a moment.

"Ms. Elle?"

Elle's eyes flicked back open, fluctuating strangely between blue and green, the green much more predominant. She turned her alert gaze onto Cocoa, a wry grin on her lips.

"What do you say we make a soufflé?"

Cocoa looked interested. "A soufflé? Like, from scratch?"

"Yeah!" Elle bounced off the bed. "How hard can it be?"

"Okay. But to warn you, I've heard that it can be kind of—"

"Awesome!" Elle cried, punching the air in barely contained enthusiasm. "After all, the souffle isn't the soufflé: the _soufflé _is the _recipe._"

"Whatever you say!" said Cocoa agreeably.

They had no idea what they were starting.

* * *

ELLENORA'S CHOICE: _Written In Reverse, _by _Ti__ë__sto _

To say that it had been an ordeal to try and secure transportation during the night shift would have been a major understatement, since finding the right people at that hour was nearly impossible. The worst part was, after Bernard had gotten things sorted out with a pair of reindeer and a sleigh, Santa had sent him notice that they weren't allowed to use any kind of magical transport for their journey.

This had made his by then hour long process completely pointless.

Then he'd had to go about figuring out which method of mortal transportation was the most efficient. They could teleport to any major station or airport in Canada with relative ease, but after that their magic would be suspended and they would have to act normal—well, _human._

Having briefly perused Elfland Security's folder on Phillip Connelly's web of search tactics—which were wide and varied, in view of the man's considerable resources—it was obvious that air travel was out of the question: all airports in Canada were being monitored in case Elle decided to travel. Facial recognition, security checkpoints, ticket registration…unless she used an alias it was pointless, and they didn't have time to construct a believable personal background history for something like that.

So that limited things. Buses were out, because they took too long (and were frankly, kind of nasty.) That left the bullet train, which didn't seem so bad. It ran in a straight line from Vancouver down to Seattle, and wouldn't take too long. They would have to teleport quite a ways, but given Elle's extra energy, and her telepathy, well…it wouldn't be too difficult.

This entire process gave him pause. Seeing how intent Phillip was on finding his daughter made Bernard feel a little evil for keeping her for himself, like some sort of wicked wizard keeping the princess locked away in a tower. No doubt Elle would have loved the connotation: but that was beside the point. He felt selfish, keeping Elle from her family, especially from her sisters. But that didn't stop him from having other, more personal concerns. What was to stop Phillip Connelly from refusing to let her return to the Pole with him, when all was said and done? Nothing, if the files kept by Elfland were any indication. He was already counting on the man not liking him by this point, but if—no, _when_ the man tried to state claim to Elle's best interests, Bernard would have a thing or two to say about that.

The very thought made Bernard feel hopeless. Regardless of talking with Quentin, Bernard really didn't feel much better. Doubt of the caliber he was experiencing was much too complicated to be gotten rid of with a mere pep talk.

For the most part, Elle's choice between her family and him had been a no-brainer. But then, she had had a perfectly fine cover story, and no real reason to go home. Now that _that _had changed, Bernard couldn't help but wonder what else would—and with no small amount of dread, either.

Having secured two tickets, and tired of being caught up in the endless circle his worries kept trapping him inside of, Bernard decided to return and give Elle the news. He didn't hurry back, though; walking more slowly than necessary to allow himself time to reflect over all that they had been through together over the past two years.

The Emissary Clause, the Escape Clause, the Deliquesce. But more importantly, the little things that no one but him and Elle knew about. Their vacation. When they'd moved in together. The first time Bernard had witnessed one of Elle's nightmares, and had stayed the night in her bed to keep her from having anymore. How he'd stayed almost every night since. The way he carried her to bed when she zonked out on the couch from a marathon she probably shouldn't have had. How she'd been there for him every time he almost lost his head, and always what to say (or do) to calm him down again.

It wasn't quite fair, he thought sometimes. People shouldn't be allowed to have love like theirs—otherwise all you ever did was think about it. Which sounded stupid, but wasn't really. You had to have experienced something like it to know.

He had told her before that his life would never be the same, if she ever left. He hadn't meant it in a guilt-inducing way, just as plain fact. He didn't want to live without her, end-of-story. With remorse, he realized he should have told her this more often. Once every few weeks was hardly enough.

Eventually he arrived at the door to their suites, and tried to put aside his thoughts. The hallway outside was surprisingly quiet; however, when he grasped the door-handle to the rooms there was the static charge that came as a side-effect of large amounts of magic. The pressure in his ears was a good indication of the sound cancellation Elle had put into effect as well.

Bernard followed a standard protocol in these kinds of situations: square your shoulders, take a deep breath, brace yourself, open the door quickly and be ready to duck any flying projectiles that should happen your way.

He had expertly executed this routine and was pressed against the inside of the door to take up as little space as possible. He was also holding his breath.

Whatever Bernard had been expecting, it wasn't this. The vacuum was running itself in the living room, moving around as if an invisible person were pushing it. The TV sound-system was blasting a techno-beat that was bouncing off the walls of the entire suite at club-level volume, actually making the floor pulse under his shoes. _Little Bad Girl (Instrumental) _was apparently its title, according to the screen. Bernard had picked up on a few major DJ names under Elle's influence, and this reminded him a lot of one house artist known as David Guetta. The album art that flashed on TV a moment later proved this guess to be correct. Bernard actually smirked a little at this, pleased about being right concerning something relevant to Elle.

A loud banging and siren sound momentarily cut over the music, only to be quickly shut off. A smell of burnt electronic equipment filled the air, but it couldn't cover the mouthwatering aroma coming from the kitchen.

Bernard's attention (or rather, the attention of his stomach) was quickly diverted by a whoop, followed by Elle yelling "YES! I HAVE DONE IT!" at the top of her lungs.

He involuntarily grinned.

The next moment, a mop danced out of his bedroom door. Moving completely independently, like something out of _Cinderella. _Mopping.

He stopped grinning then.

Suddenly the door to Elle's room burst open, and…oh, tinsel. Was that a dark blue bowtie? Was that a tight fitting white blouse with dark blue suspenders to match? Was that a short dark brown mini-skirt with sheer black nylons underneath? Was that her usual shade of lipstick, or was it a tad darker? Was that a fez? Was the Sonic green now?

Was it getting increasingly harder to breathe?

Elle was grinning widely, admiring her newly upgraded Sonic. Green was really her color, and the new accessories she'd added should even work on wood (no four hundred year equation needed.) It was then that she saw Bernard, gaping like a fish while pressed up against the front door and flushed a shade of red that was impressive, even for him. Given the way his eyes were roaming, it didn't take much to figure why. She was immensely pleased. This wasn't, of course, what she had picked to travel in. She had a nice sensible pair of black skinny jeans and black combat boots for that, waiting for her on her bed. But this had been another cosplay idea she'd found online and impulsively tried; and now…well, she was glad she did.

And, given her new arsenal of quotes, she knew just what to do.

Elle ran right up to him with a serious look on her face, just as the song faded out. "Do you think I'm pretty?" she asked seriously, pointing her Sonic back at the vacuum and mop, which immediately retreated into the hall closet where they belonged. She kept her keen gaze on his face, one eyebrow arched expectantly.

Bernard was rarely lost for words. He was as good with sharp comebacks as Elle was, and it took a lot to get the one up on him. Unfortunately this was one of those rare times. He hadn't expected anything like this. Her history with cosplay had been strictly professional, so to speak. The Tauriel costume had been painstakingly accurate, the Tenth Doctor cosplay functional, but this…this was something else entirely.

All he managed to get out?

"Whendidyourlegsgetsolong?" All in one breath.

Elle smirked. His expression was priceless. It would have been completely accurate to say he looked like he'd been struck by lightning, given the way his eyes were widened and his jaw dropped. Indeed, if he had been any more overwhelmed, he'd have either been drooling or passed out.

"Good enough," she said, and launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and planting a deep kiss on him.

One thing was certain: he was never complaining about cosplay, or fangirling, again.

After about six seconds of possibly the best kiss ever, Elle pulled back. "Jenny, Jenny. Jenny Jenny _Jenny!"_ she said in an odd tone with a sharp shake of her head. Bernard was momentarily too mind-blown to even register what she was saying.

Then she was rushing off again, skidding to a stop in the kitchen. "I made a soufflé!" Elle announced, beaming proudly. "I _am_ Souffle Girl." Then she frowned. "Well, Cocoa did help me…she left awhile ago." She bent and peered through the oven window, careful not to bump the appliance. Bernard was busy trying _not _to estimate how many inches higher her skirt hem rose when she was doubled over.

"Unfortunately, the first one was too beautiful to live," Elle continued, oblivious. "The second one is coming along much better." She went to the fridge and whipped out a clear glass bowl of something yellow, slamming the door shut and yanking off the clear wrap of the top of the bowl. "Custard's done," she said, dunking her finger in the mixture and taste testing it. "Mmm, perfect."

Bernard had come over into the kitchen now. Elle was surprised to see that his eyes were locked on her, and felt a little worried. Had she gone too far this time? "I did clean the whole house," she said, almost apologetically. He didn't look away. "Custard?" she offered him the bowl nervously. He took it and set it on the table.

She was suddenly aware of how ridiculous it was that she had decided to cosplay when they were on a schedule—and when there was so much to worry about. But what else was she supposed to do? Elle coped with serious stress by acting ridiculous, this being a prime example.

Something had gotten into him lately, she figured; because he hadn't been giving her those lectures anymore. They had never been _bad_ lectures, as they had been relatively gentle and had usually ended with her having the last word. But now, he just stared at her with the strangest expression, one she couldn't understand at all. She reached out to his mind, and found it carefully guarded. Whatever it was, he didn't want her to know about it.

"Look, I'm sorry," Elle said, head bowed slightly in embarrassment as her cheeks heated up. She could feel like such an idiot in front of Bernard sometimes—it probably had to do with his age to a degree, and also that he was one of the few people whose opinions she actually _cared _about. "It was a bad idea, okay? I'll just go and—"

"I'm not angry," said Bernard. He certainly didn't _sound_ angry. Elle glanced up, and found him with tears in the corners of his eyes.

This SERIOUSLY freaked her out.

"Bernard?!" she asked, eyes wide in alarm. "Bernard, I think your eyes are leaking…"

"Don't change," her fiancé said, a small smile quirking his lips.

"Excuse me?"

Bernard sighed, and looked away. "I know I'm boring," he said. "And I know I'm not fun, and I'm probably the worst person you could have to explain your interests to…" he looked back at her, almost wistfully. "But don't change. Don't _ever _regret what makes you happy. I'm not going to hold it against you, and I'm certainly not going to make you change. So don't change because you think I don't approve."

Elle stared at him in confusion, and felt her own eyes filling with tears. How did he know? Even when she blocked him out, he knew. Abruptly, she flung her arms around him, hugging him tightly. "What's gotten into you?" she whispered, as he tucked his face into her neck. Elle felt a tear splat onto the shoulder of her blouse.

"Pre-separation anxiety," he said hoarsely, his own arms wrapped snugly about her as though holding on for dear life.

"We're not going to be separated!" Elle said, laughing a little at how childish _he _was being, for once.

"That's what I thought last time."

"Bernard…"

"You know I'm right!"

"Yeah, you usually are." Elle sighed. "But I'm telling you: this time is different. You're coming with me, dammit; if I have to pack you in my luggage I will."

Bernard laughed a short laugh, and grew solemn again. "It's not supposed to be this hard," he muttered, softly pressing his lips to her neck.

Elle blinked rapidly for a moment, just to clear the strange lights from her eyes. "Well, you're not even supposed to be _real,_" she countered, a fresh bout of tears stinging her eyes. "Technically speaking, you should be fictional." Her voice faltered until it was only a cracked vestige of its normal strength. "And where would I be then?" Screwing her eyes shut, Elle burned the moment indelibly into her memory, a few of the tears leaking out.

Bernard's arms tightened around her. "I don't exactly like to think about where I'd be, either. Being fictional doesn't sound too promising." They both laughed shakily and stood there, forehead to forehead.

It wasn't very often that Elle ever showed how truly upset she was about something, but at that proximity Bernard could fully see how torn up she was. Her now blue-green eyes were full of pain and fear, swimming in tears. "Tell me we'll be okay," she begged. "Please."

Seeing her that vulnerable was a bit frightening to Bernard. Not to mention, it made him feel horrible. And knowing that he couldn't say anything truly reassuring given his own problems, he said what they both needed to hear:

"We're going to be okay, Elle. No matter what. We're going to be okay."

Admittedly, what followed this statement was a 'snogging session', as Elle would have rather bluntly put it—though it was really much more than that. This wasn't just mindless kissing, it was practically a promise; and schedule or not, neither tried to cut it short.

A faint thought of what the Eleventh Doctor would have said flitted across Elle's mind. "_How do you keep going like that? Do you breathe through your ears? Hello!"_ Fittingly, that quote was from a season 7 special entitled _A Christmas Carol._ Then, as quickly as it had come, Elle's mind was wiped blank again. Damn mental concentration!

"So," Bernard said a few minutes later, when their mouths were finally available for verbal interaction, "how do you feel about being human for awhile?"

Elle thought carefully. "Mixed feelings," she replied eventually. "It'll be difficult doing things without magic, but all the same: I _do _miss mortality, from time to time. When will it hit us?"

"Sometime when we're on the train, I should think."

"Hmm. Okay then." She gave him a quick kiss and pulled out of his arms. "I'm especially interested in seeing if I've had any physical changes over the past two years."

"What do you mean?" Bernard asked, confused.

Rolling her eyes, Elle set a hand on her hips. "Penny in the air, Bernard. Honestly, can't you figure that one out?"

Still a blank look.

"Never mind. We'll find out soon enough, I suppose."

With a nod, Bernard's brows furrowed. "Do you smell something burning?" he asked.

In horror Elle's eyes flicked to the oven. "My soufflé!"

* * *

**Well this chapter sort of just…happened. This was actually nothing like what I had planned, but it suddenly occurred to me that **_**Bernard**_ **would probably want to talk to a friend too. We all saw how bifflesy he and Quentin were in TSC (after which we never see Quentin again, LESIGH) and SafyreSky and I had been mulling this theory over for quite some time, so I put it into effect. She's responsible for at LEAST half the idea. SO PAY TRIBUTE, FREAKS!**

**Also, there were **_**Despicable Me 2 **_**quotes (kudos to you if you caught them ;) a quote from **_**Elf **_**(I couldn't resist) and an appearance from Cocoa, Judy's **_**other **_**apprentice. Does anybody remember where she comes from? She's TSC3 canon, not my character… ;) But nobody EVER writes her! SO I did it. **

**Side note: I was DYING writing the part with Elle in the more feminine Doctor outfit. Like, Bernard's face FTW… his expression! xD OMGOMGOMG A SHORT SKIRT AGGGGHH MY EYES I CAN'T LOOK AWAYYYYY *eyes pop out and roll to the floor* lmao**

**ANNNNND more Who quotes out the wazoo, and angsty Bernora that just sort of typed itself without my permission…honestly, like half this chapter is a blank spot in my memory. But anyway! After practically NO plot momentum and mostly character building, next chapter will bring us back to Seattle. WOOT WOOT FAMJAM ISSUES BEGIN, SO PREPARE YOUR BODIES AND SOULS**

**I can promise that this will be like nothing you are expecting. Hold on tight! It's gonna be quite the ride. (:**

**So basically, take this chapter or pretend it never happened. Whatever you like, it just needed to be written.**

**Reviews are much appreciated! I love to hear what you guys think. **

**-Ana**

**PS. The song listed above, **_**Written In Reverse **_**by **_**Tiesto**_**, is a really good song. It's pretty much the song for this story. Check it out, if you will! **


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Journey to the Centre of Seattle

ELLENORA'S CHOICE:_ Beating Heart,_ by _Ellie Goulding_

Elle didn't understand why she felt so sad.

She knew it wasn't quite right for her to feel so glum about going home again- about seeing her family- but she was just that: glum. There was an overwhelming sense of sadness hanging over her head, and for all her telepathy she couldn't figure out where it was coming from.

This feeling was something she hid behind her obsession with_ Doctor Who._ It was also perhaps for this reason that she had suddenly become so fond of the Eleventh Doctor: after all, it was he who routinely hid his issues behind his goofy and overly enthusiastic behavior. Elle knew this to be the situation in her case, and was only grateful that Neil wasn't there in his official capacity as Dr. Miller to psycho-evaluate her. Her own thoughts were distracting enough.

So she had pulled her smoldering soufflé from the oven (thinking all the while how 'Clara' that was and how apparently the only perfect soufflé she would make would be in the ones she made in her mind kitchen.) Then Elle went to change from her skirt (which, besides the rather entertaining reception it had gotten, simply wasn't functional) into her black skinny jeans and boots, she left the rest of the cosplay on, swapping the tight blouse for a more comfortably fitting one and packing the fez securely in her suitcase. Then she zipped up her bags, and threw on her green pea-coat (luckily for her, the Doctor had worn a similar coat in _A Town Called Mercy._) When she got to her black leather gloves, however, she had a little more trouble. Seeing them had brought her attention to her hands- which in turn brought her attention to her finger.

A particular finger.

The question she'd been avoiding hit her again: did she _really_ want to tell her family about Bernard right away? She'd made the mistake of NOT telling them before, and had told herself that she wouldn't make that mistake again. But when it came down to it, it wasn't that simple. The explanation she needed to give them about her engagement couldn't be told fully until she could tell them where she worked, who she was now, and _why_ she had gotten engaged in the first place.

Of course, she could just simplify it...

…but how could one simplify the Emissary Clause?

Elle slipped her glove on over her ring, refusing to make a decision until the time came.

Casting a final glance around at her spotless bedroom, Elle slung her carry-on over her shoulder and wheeled her duffel bag out into the living room, closing the door with a quiet click. Who knew how much would have changed before she set foot in that room again.

She and Bernard agreed that they wouldn't make a scene about leaving—in fact, they were leaving it for Santa and Quentin to break it to the elves. It was the same small group of people who had been there the evening before that showed up. The only new addition was Buddy Claus, who had woken up with his mother and now sat on her hip, sucking his thumb and looking around sagely at the older people around him. Jacqueline was dressed already, but Jack had stubbornly remained in his pajamas, insisting that he was going back to bed soon after.

"Four thirty in the morning is an ungodly hour," he was saying as the two Head Elves walked in with their luggage.

"Oh yes, and we all know that at your age, you need your beauty sleep," Jacqueline said, crossing her arms smugly.

Jack gasped and clutched his chest dramatically. "That _actually _hurt, sister of mine," he said, his blue eyes sparkling good naturedly at his sibling.

Jacqueline broke down and laughed, shoving him lightly in the arm. "Oh don't be such a drama queen."

Scott, who had been talking privately with Carol, welcomed the two elves with open arms—literally. "Elle, Bernard!" he said cheerily, and folded his arms. "I see you two are all ready to go."

"Yes, sir!" said Bernard with a slight eyeroll and tilt of the head. Elle said nothing, but gave a small smile. Scott found this a little unsettling, as it usually was the other was around.

"Nice outfit," he said to the girl, pointing at her clothes.

Behind him, Jacqueline giggled. "Is that a bowtie?" She was thinking of the conference call. It was actually a subtle reminder to Elle of what they'd talked about. She hoped her friend's telepathy would pick up on the hint and connect the dots.

Elle frowned, adjusting her bowtie tentatively. "Bowties are cool," she said, casting an understanding look and a wink at the frosty sprite.

"Do you have everything you need for the trip?" Carol asked concernedly, her motherly side kicking in. She readjusted buddy on her hip and tucked a stray strand of his hair aside.

"I think so," Elle said, patting her coat pockets to check for her things. "Wallet, phone…unfortunately I lost my house keys over the years, but I've got this." She pulled out her new and improved Sonic, flicking her wrist to activate the prongs on the end. Its faint buzzing filled the air. "Actually, this should take care of pretty much anything we run into." She sighed. "Unfortunately it doesn't work on troublesome family members. Bother." She tucked it back inside her inner coat pocket, Doctor style.

"O…kay!" said Santa, who had no idea what Elle was talking about. He reached behind his back and pulled out a brown leather wallet. "This is yours, from last time," he said, handing it to Bernard. Elle glanced over at it, interested. "Everything you need for identity purposes is in there. Elfland is working on creating a digital presence for you, so that nothing seems out of place should Mr. Connelly decide to look you up."

"He will!" coughed Elle quickly, then looked around like nothing had happened.

Bernard stared at her a long moment, and eventually shook his head, taking the wallet. "Thank you."

"Anything for you two, Bernard," said Santa with a warm smile. He stepped back and said a bit more loudly, "And now, you two had better be off. You're train leaves in ten minutes, you'll be cutting it close as it is!"

"Alright," Bernard said, taking Elle's right hand. "Are you ready?" he asked quietly, holding her gaze.

Elle took a deep breath. "As I'll ever be," she replied, squeezing Bernard's hand more tightly. She screwed her eyes shut as the bracelets on her wrists began to glow and heat up, the faint buzzing giving her arms a strange tingling feeling. The last sight she saw before teleporting out was of Santa, Mrs. Claus, Buddy, Jack and Jacquie all waving to her, happy smiles on their faces.

She took a mental picture, and saved it.

* * *

Something must have gone wrong with the teleportation, because instead of showing up in the station, they showed up in a train compartment. A sleeping compartment, from the looks of it. Two bunks were built into one wall, and a long bench lined the entirety of the other.

"Oh, that's great," Elle said, looking around the compartment with no small amount of irritation. "Just what we needed. This is probably the train to Minneapolis or something." She facepalmed. "Way to go me."

"Why do you assume it was your fault?" Bernard said, sighing as he took out the tickets from his satchel.

"Because I was the one who didn't keep my thoughts set on the destination during the process."

"And what were you thinking?"

"Uh…" Elle shuffled her feet. She muttered something.

Bernard raised an eyebrow. "What's that?"

"Geronimo!" Elle said more loudly. "I thought, 'GERONIMO!' rather loudly, okay? It won't happen again."

Bernard shook his head. "Yeah, it probably will. But I don't think it was you: I think we're running out of magic. It's almost time we turned human."

"I'd forgotten about that."

"No matter: this_ is_ our train…" Bernard looked up at the numbers above the door. "Our compartment, even."

"Oh!" Looking moderately pleased, Elle sat her luggage on the bottom bunk. "Sweet. Saves the hassle of boarding."

"To a point," Bernard said, setting his suitcase on the floor. "I've got to go and explain to the conductor, and get out tickets punched. Wait here, I'll be right back." He turned to go out the door, then stopped and made for the door on the opposite end of the carriage. Elle flopped back on the bed, letting her breath out. The door closed with a slightly metallic clang.

Immediately Elle sat up, fidgeting with her bowtie in a nervous way that would have made the Doctor proud. Not that she was trying to imitate him just then; she _was _genuinely nervous and it _was_ a good thing to fidget with. She had gone away from the Workshop with Bernard before—which of course had been a complete an utter mistake thanks to Jack and Curtis—but this was different. It wasn't going to be just them and any strangers they happened to meet while out and about.

No, this was her family they were talking about: and as much as Elle tried to make it like she didn't care what they thought of Bernard, well…like any engaged girl taking her new fiancé home for the first time, she just wanted them all to get along, maybe even _like_ each other. Her sisters…what would her sisters think? Elle—or rather, _Ellington—_had never dated or even showed any interest in boys, and here she was two years later head over heels in love? How did she expect them to react to that?

And her parents: even though _she_ hadn't shown interest in boys didn't mean boys hadn't shown interest in her. Of course, no one had ever been 'good enough' for their 'Ellie Girl', and Elle highly doubted Bernard would be an immediate exception to that, especially after 'keeping her away' for two years—as they would see it.

She was really beginning to regret letting her mind wander down such a dismal path, when the sound of someone clearing their throat came from in front of her.

Elle had been so deep in thought, staring at the carpet intently that she'd failed to notice someone's feet standing in front of her.

This person was wearing a pair of dress shoes, a pair of black trousers, a dark blue almost black T-shirt, and a suit jacket. His hair was wavy and tousled, and he had a slightly confused look in his eyes.

"Yeah, it happened on the way back," Bernard said, tugging at his shirt hem self-consciously. "Feels weird…last time, it was a process. This time round it's just bang, now you're a human adult. And this? Active camouflage." He ran a hand over his cheek absently, and grimaced—even though his face appeared to be completely bare. "I'd forgotten about the facial hair. That's just great." He sighed, and gave Elle a strange look. "Are you alright?"

Elle was looking at him with an expression that, had he known it, very much resembled the one he'd worn himself earlier that morning: shock, and awe. Her jaw was hanging open rather ungracefully and her eyes were wide, taking him in all at once.

"Elle?" Bernard's voice sounded like it was coming from somewhere very far away. Elle closed her mouth with a snap and swallowed hard, trying to form a coherent sentence.

Bernard looked embarrassed. "Is it that bad?"

Blinking twice, Elle stuttered. "I…I just…" She gave a short breathy laugh, and with a distant, glazed expression she whistled lowly. "Hooooo, baby."

Bernard reddened. "Excuse me?" he almost squeaked.

Still wearing a sideways (and slightly goofy) grin, Elle bit her lip, staring at Bernard in a way that made him slightly nervous. Abruptly, she shook her head and slapped her left cheek, holding a finger in front of her nose with a severe expression as if chastising herself. "Sorry," she apologized. "You sorta got the one-up on me there. You look…" She looked him over again, and swallowed thickly. "You look good, B. _Really_ good. _Really, reeaaallly—_"

"Okay, okay," Bernard said, still blushing furiously as he held up his hands before him in a placating gesture. "I get it." He grabbed the edges of his suit jacket and shrugged to adjust it, Elle inwardly screaming and rolling around in her mind over how 'Doctor' that looked. "Thanks."

"Just telling the truth," Elle said, trying to look anywhere but at him. She tugged at the collar of her blouse, slightly loosening her tie. "Is it just me, or is it hot in here?" Finally she gave up on her look and slipped out of her coat.

"A little," Bernard said, his voice cracking. An odd feeling came over him as he watched her take off her coat and roll up her sleeves. Something about the way her cheeks were flushed was very…

He coughed. "I'm just going to um, take a walk," he said briskly, Elle immediately nodding in agreement.

"Yeah, yeah. You do that. I'm just gonna…sleep for a while." Elle practically dove under the covers and hid her head.

"Okay…" The sound of Bernard's feet heading towards the opposite door came through the blankets muffled. Then the door creaked open—and instead of a quick click of it closing behind him, there was a long pause. "I love you," he called quietly.

Under the covers, Elle grinned at the swelling feeling in her chest. "Love you too," she replied, smiling. A moment later, the door closed.

Suddenly feeling much better about things, Elle burrowed into the surprisingly soft pillow and put on her headphones, turning on some much needed music before falling asleep.

She couldn't have known that deep in the pocket of her coat, her fob watch had begun reeling, its hands spinning and counting forward to days that were still yet to come.

* * *

Bernard came back after awhile, mind slightly less haywire. He wasn't looking forward to the new hormones waging war with his head in future, but supposed it couldn't be helped. Hopefully if he kept a close eye on his thoughts he could filter them and prevent slips of unwanted ideas getting out to Elle.

He came quietly into the room, and found Elle sleeping with her headphones on, a surprisingly peaceful look on her face. The music was loud in the quiet rhythm of the train—even from across the room he could hear the song streaming out. Not surprisingly it was Ellie Goulding. With a shake of his now much less curly head, Bernard went to check his suitcase while wondering if all of his other clothes had changed as well—when suddenly, the dull roar from the headphones faded out, and, oddly, a song began playing aloud. Bernard figured Elle had selected the song for her alarm feature, and almost went to wake her. But the lyrics struck him, and instead he took a seat on the bench across from her, watching her thoughtfully.

_Guess it's true I'm not good at a one-night stand_

_But I still need love 'cause I'm just a man_

_These nights never seem to go to plan_

_I don't want you to leave, won't you hold my hand?_

Despite the brave face he was putting on for Elle, Bernard was thoroughly miserable. More and more it seemed like no matter how hard he tried, he was going to lose his Betrothed. He had stuffed the feeling down, knowing that Elle would sense it through their newly forming Bond and confront him or try to comfort him. Truth be told, nothing she could say could take away that feeling.

Bernard wasn't one to be overly demonstrative in public; nor did he even tell Elle how much he really cared. They both used sarcasm to protect themselves—sometimes , even from each other. In the beginning—the first few months after the pocket-watch incident, for example—it had been a process of really realizing how much it was possible to _care_ about someone. Sure, he cared about the elves, he cared about Santa and Mrs. Claus, Judy and Abby, Quentin—hell, he even cared about Curtis. But this was different, he found. This was _love,_ and somehow, it had gotten its hooks into him deeply.

_Oh, won't you stay with me?_

_Cause you're all I need_

_This ain't love it's clear to see_

_But darling, stay with me_

Unlike most people believed, Bernard knew he _could_ live without Elle. He knew that it was possible to miss someone like crazy, to feel like you were going mad because they weren't there, and have to keep going anyway. KBO, Elle would have quipped: Keep Buggering On. But Churchill quotes or not, having to KBO when it came to love—when it came to _Elle_—was just about the most undesirable thing Bernard could think of.

Elle herself loved to pretend that being sappy was stupid. It was her personality, to be sarcastic and blunt and secretly scared. But once he'd proven himself to her- once she'd trusted him-she'd melted, become vulnerable with him in a way that was almost childish. As much as she complained about him using the 'puppy dog eyes', she used her 'baby blues' to destroy his willpower in a way he didn't expect her to fully understand. And seeing her melt had only made him fall in love with her in yet another way.

_Why am I so emotional?_

_No it's not a good look, gain some self control  
_

_And deep down I know this never works  
_

_But you can lay with me so it doesn't hurt_

Sure, her fangirling could get extreme sometimes, but for the most part she kept it separate from work and was generally her usual, simultaneously mature and funny self. The crazies she got hid her fears and put something humorous in their place, so that no one would laugh at her. For her to have gone public with her _Who_ obsession only served as proof of how deeply troubled she was—and what was more, he could feel it. She was as scared as he was of being abandoned—they were each afraid that the other would choose to walk away, and their fears were feeding off of one another through the Bond.

Not that it was the Bond's fault. It was only trying to break down the protective wall they'd placed between each other, to keep from becoming what they each had unwittingly deemed 'uncomfortably' close. There had been moments when they'd pushed that wall down, only to rebuild it shortly afterward. The Bond was ensuring that everything, desirable or not, was flowing between them: a subconscious stream of mental communication that was affecting them in more ways than even Bernard realized.

_Oh, won't you stay with me?  
_

_Cause you're all I need  
_

_This ain't love it's clear to see  
_

_But darling, stay with me_

Watching Elle sleep there while she looked like nothing in the world was bothering her for the first time in awhile, Bernard felt hopeless. Everything felt like it was on the brink of disaster—one false move from him and the world he knew could come crashing down. But for her—for _them_—he would figure out how to make things right. He would fix the hole he'd dug between Elle and her family, and he would convince them to allow him to remain in her life.

Bernard sent a wave of warm tender thoughts at her with his mind, testing the Bond's functionality. He saw her smile faintly in her sleep, sigh, and roll over, hugging a pillow close to her. A smile tugged at his own lips, but quickly vanished as an unwarranted tear slipped down his cheek. It surprised him slightly, but he ignored it.

"I'll fix this, Elle," he whispered, his voice shaking slightly as the last few lines of the song closed. "So you can stay with me." The space between the bunk and the bench was narrow— he reached out and took her hand, and kissed it.

_Oh, won't you stay with me?  
_

_Cause you're all I need  
_

_This ain't love it's clear to see  
_

_But darling, stay with me_

Then he clasped it between his hands and bowed his weary head. A faint energy ran between his hands and Elle's as he closed his eyes, welcoming the strange tingling in his head that was the beginning of a firm connection between their minds.

Now if only he knew how to make _sure _that nothing would change between them. Unfortunately, a small part of him was nagging that as soon as they reached Seattle, all bets would be off.

Damn hormones.

* * *

ELLENORA'S CHOICE: _Hanging On (Edit)_ and _Hanging On (I See MONSTAS Remix_) by _Ellie Goulding_

SH-THUD _BANG!_

"Wha-the…" Elle woke suddenly from a deep and satisfying sleep and sat up in a panic, whipping something out from her pants pocket. "Whoever it is, I'm warning you! I'm armed!"

Beside the bunk, Bernard stood with his bags in hand. "It's alright, we've just arrived," he explained, looking out the window at the darkening sky as the train's brakes screeched rather loudly. "You've been sleeping all da—is that a water pistol?"

Elle looked at the thing in her hand and back to him. "Let's find out." She shot him twice in the chest, leaving two wet marks on his shirt. "Hmm. Looks like it."

Bernard rolled his eyes, and buttoned his suit jacket. "Come on, up you get." He sat his suitcase down and offered her a hand. "We need to get going."

Elle threw off the covers and climbed out. "Oh alri—" She hit her head on the edge of the upper bunk. "OW!"

Immediately concerned, Bernard checked her head. "I'm fine, I'm fine!" Elle said, brushing his hands away, and brushing her hair back from her face. She tucked it behind her ears, and froze. "Oh."

Her ears had gone round while she was sleeping.

"So: how do I look?"

"Human." What Bernard _wasn't _mentioning was how Elle had become a bit more curvaceous than she had been before—in what he could only consider as the 'right' places. But seeing as he couldn't really say so without sounding lewd he kept that information to himself—and secretly relished it.

Elle scowled. "Really? Not funny. I get all caught up over you, and you just stand there and…" She was abruptly (but far from rudely) cut off.

A few seconds later, Bernard pulled back. "You look as beautiful as ever," he said, looking strangely reverential. "_Doctor._" Elle turned crimson and turned to put on her coat.

"Nice save there, mister," she said, deflecting. "You know something? You kiss different when you're human."

"Bad different?"

"Just…different."

Bernard said nothing, but grinned.

Elle grew more solemn though, as she gathered her things and followed Bernard out of the train compartment. A few minutes later they were off the train, standing in Kings Street Station next to a platform labeled _Amtrak Cascades. _Stepping out into her city again was perhaps one of the best feelings she had ever experienced. Elle really _loved _Seattle, and missed it almost as much as her family. The perfect blend of eccentricity, art couture and cityscape held a special place in her heart that the Pole would never replace.

Still, she felt as if looking up were wrong, somehow. She felt slightly guilty at her relief in returning. A little gladness was understandable, given her absence; but she didn't think it right that the relief was so _intense. _Also, a strange shyness had overcome her. She felt out of place, and almost fearful. Seeing so many adult people after so long in the Workshop was unsettling for Elle, who was, in spite of her fangirling, used to feeling like one of the more mature people in the room. So she kept her eyes to the ground for a few gut wrenching minutes, and watched her booted feet follow after Bernard's, trying to regain her confidence.

Elle breathed in the air as if savoring it, her eyes closed. "I love this station," she told him quietly. "It's technically in Chinatown district, so you can practically smell the food."

"I see." Bernard was looking down at his phone—the non work related one, of course; that had been left back at the Pole—and was trying to find the number for a taxi service online. Elle moved closer subtly, a headache trying to hit her as the amount of people in the station (but mostly, their staggering amount of thoughts) was beginning to get to her. She peered over his shoulder.

"What are you doing?"

"Taxi."

Elle laughed outright. "Seriously? I thought you'd know how to get a taxi, Bernard. You're _way_ too old not to know something that simple."

He glared playfully at her. "I _know_ how to get a taxi, thank you! I was trying to find a company that your father isn't monitoring."

"Oh, who gives a fish finger?" Elle said, dragging him by the hand out of the terminal and towards the front doors. "We're going to be seeing him in less than an hour anyway." _Now _the excitement was beginning to hit her.

"Riiight. Okay then, just…never mind. Taxi!" They were standing outside, next to the street with dozens of other passengers looking for a ride, or getting picked up by family. _Maybe next time they'll come to get you, _Elle told herself hopefully.

An empty taxi drove past them, not paying Bernard any mind.

"Okay, I know he saw me."

Elle facepalmed. "Yeah, so do I. I wouldn't have stopped either; you look completely ridiculous jumping up and down like that. You're not short now, remember? I'm pretty sure you've grown an inch or two, you're taller than me now." She measured her height against his, and found that he was indeed three inches taller than he'd been before. "Are you _sure_ you've finished…changing?" she looked around to make sure no one had overheard them.

"Yeah, I'm sure." Bernard tried not to look impressed by the fact that he was slightly taller. "Oh, _that's_ what you meant when you said 'physical changes.'"

"No crap, Watson."

"Again with the 'Watson'. Why are you referencing Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's work? And why am _I _Watson?"

"Because I can," said Elle, feigning patience with her fiancé. "Also, in this situation, only one of us is Sherlock—and it's certainly not you."

Bernard scowled.

"Get it now?" Elle tossed her hair. If her hair hadn't been flat ironed straight and everything except some bangs pulled back into a bun, he would have yanked one of her curls. Unfortunately for him, that wasn't an option. "Now, let me try." Elle stood out on the edge of the sidewalk, and waved a hand in the air at the nearest empty car. "TAXI!"

Sure enough, the car pulled up alongside them, the taxi driver grinning at her in a friendly way.

"See? Easy." Elle crossed her arms and gave him a smug look. "That is how it's done, _Watson._"

With a roll of his eyes, Bernard picked up their suitcases and took them to the trunk. Elle smirked after him. "Just kidding!" she called lightly.

"Yeah right."

Once they were safely inside the vehicle, Elle turned to the driver. "1350 East Hill Drive, please," she said, flashing him a charming smile.

The driver grinned back. He was around her father's age, and was one of those people you could just tell was nice. "Sure thing, miss," he said, turning off into the traffic.

Elle leaned her head back against the seat, and sighed. Bernard took her hand and rubbed circles on her thumb in a soothing way, casting a wary smile at her. She smiled tensely back at him. Bernard had noticed the driver kept casting funny backward glances at them in the rearview mirror, and he found it unsettling. Or maybe that was just the fact that he was about to meet Elle's father for the first time.

"Say," the man said eventually, pointing a finger at them in the mirror. "You aren't that that Connelly girl that went missing a few years back, are you?"

"What makes you ask that?" Bernard replied quickly, squeezing Elle's hand a little tighter.

The man shrugged. "She just looks like her, is all. Those Connelly girls were always in the papers back then, and I know a face when I see it." He smiled at them in a secretive way. "Also, the address is a dead giveaway."

"Right." Bernard looked at Elle, who responded with a look that said, 'sorry.' "Could we keep this between ourselves, please?" he said, using his best 'I mean business' tone.

"Certainly," the man said, turning off the street to board an onramp. "It's just nice to see that she's come back with a nice young _man_."

Elle tried not to roll her eyes, but leaned on Bernard's shoulder all the same.

The rest of the ride passed in silence. All too soon, they were pulling up in front of the big old house that Elle hadn't seen in what felt like forever. The holly bushes out front were still as surgically trimmed as usual, and the driveway was spotlessly clean, with a silver convertible in the driveway.

"Looks like they didn't keep the Maserati then," Elle said, slipping out the door farthest from the house. "Shame. Our second kiss was in that car."

Bernard sighed, and handed the driver his card.

"Lookin' forward to meetin' her father?" the driver asked, looking back at him confidentially as Elle rummaged around in the trunk.

"How did you know?" Bernard said dryly, giving a weak smile.

"Hey, I don't blame you," The man said. "Phillip Connelly is a good guy, but he's papa bear when it comes to his girls. You've got a hell of an introduction to make."

"Where did you learn all of this, anyway?" asked Bernard, suspicious.

"I told you. The newspapers used to love writin' about those kids. They stopped after _she _disappeared, though. So a word to the wise: if news gets out that Ellington Connelly's come home, _stay away from the press._ They'll be sendin' paparazzi after you like crazy."

"Geez," Bernard said, rubbing his face. "How rich is her father, that they care so much?"

The driver grew solemn. "Richer than he was before she left. And anyway, her disappearance was quite the story. I'm sure they'll want to meet the guy that made it all possible." He gave Bernard a knowing look.

With a sigh, Bernard took the card back from the man. "Thanks," he said, stepping out of the car and onto the street.

"Oh, and sonny!"

Bernard bent back down into the doorway, resisting the urge to tell the man just how much older than him he was. He raised his eyebrows expectantly.

"Between you and me, I think you'll do just fine. You seem like the kinda guy to make an impression, if you know what I mean. Mr. Connelly may be one of the biggest businessmen in the city, but I think, if you play your cards right…" He shrugged. "You might be just the guy to impress him."

Bernard said nothing, but smiled. "Thanks. Thanks again." He closed the door, and the taxi drove off, leaving Elle standing in the street with their luggage and a resolved expression on her face.

"You ready?" she asked, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

With a nod, Bernard picked up his suitcase. "You?" They started walking.

"Now just remember," Bernard said quickly, "no matter what happens, we'll work it out, okay? If they give you trouble, refuse to believe it's you, or demand explanations you can't give—even if you have to lie to them, which would be understandable, even though you had to do it before and _probably _don't want to do it again…"

"Bernard."

"Yeah?"

"Not helping."

Bernard bit his tongue. Why was it that sometimes, things came out less helpful and more rambling? "Sorry. I'm just…I'm just trying to help."

Elle nodded firmly. "I know," she said softly, and took a deep breath, pausing when they reached the end of the driveway. "To be honest, I'm not sure _anything_ you could say could help me right now." She took another deep breath, and closed her eyes, breathing out through her mouth. Her breath evaporated into steam in the cold wintery air. "I just wish this weren't so hard."

Uncertain about how to comfort her when standing so close to where her father probably was, Bernard set a hand on her shoulder. He also looked up at the windows of the enormous house—mansion, really—and wondered from which window a sniper would have the best shot at his head. Then, he tried to push that unwanted thought from his mind.

"Alright," Elle said, squaring her shoulders and effectively shrugging off Bernard, "There's nothing for it." Adjusting her coat, she whispered, "Geronimo," and strode up to the door, not once looking back. Bernard followed quickly behind her.

* * *

ELLENORA'S CHOICE: _I'm the Doctor, _from the _Doctor Who Season 5 Soundtrack_, composed by _Murray Gold_

When she was standing on the front step, Elle rapped smartly with her gloved knuckles on the dark wood of the solid front door, and waited.

After a long while, the sound of footsteps pattered. Elle's stomach jumped into her throat. _Who would answer the door? _She wondered in a state of half panic. She hadn't considered this. _Mom, Dad, Dottie? Annise?_

At last, the door creaked open…

…to reveal two children, a girl and a boy.

The girl had long auburn hair, clipped back high on her head, and deep brown eyes. Beside her, the boy had a thick mop of dirty blond hair, with turquoise eyes peeking out from under the fringe. He was hiding behind the girl a little, and appeared to be the more shy of the two.

"Hello," said the girl, head cocked curiously. "Who are you?"

Elle searched frantically for words. This had been nothing like she had expected, or prepared for…which left her at a bit of a loss. Who were these children? Why were they at her house? They couldn't have been more than six, and were thus too young to be Annise's friends.

So given the enormous hole left in her thoughts, Elle said the first thing that came to mind:

"Hello! I'm the Doctor!" Elle pulled out her sonic from her coat and brandished it, grinning. She thumbed over her shoulder. "And he's an elf!"

"Elle!" Bernard looked horrified. Only two seconds there and she'd already given it away.

The children looked skeptical. "_You're _lying," said the girl, crossing her arms petulantly.

Elle made that displeased look Eleven made whenever someone argued with him. "Alright, fine," she said, "only half of that was true." She knelt down in front of them, a secretive grin on her face.

Bernard held his breath…

"I'm the Doctor," Elle said, adjusting her bowtie.

…and he started breathing again. That was close.

"You can't be the Doctor," the girl replied sassily. "The Doctor's a _man!_"

Elle gasped in mock horror. "Is not!" she said, drawing herself up.

"Is too!" the little boy offered.

The girl looked back at him. "Quiet, Ben. You know what Mummy says about talking to strangers."

"But Aubrey,_ you're_ talking to strangers!"

"_Hush, _Ben!"

Elle was frowning thoughtfully. Behind her, Bernard was trying (and mostly failing) not to smirk at the children's argument. "If I wasn't the Doctor," Elle asked finally, "how would I be able to do this?"

Pointing her sonic at the door, she locked and unlocked the security system. Then, she dimmed and brightened the lights in the foyer. And finally, she rang the doorbell several times, without touching the button.

Aubrey's eyes were wide with disbelief. The boy's jaw was practically on the floor. "You _are_ the Doctor!" he whispered in amazement.

Elle smiled conspiratorially at him. "I _know."_

All the while, Bernard was watching this and wondering why he wasn't stopping Elle from showing off to unsuspecting children. After awhile, he figured it was because it was rather adorable, really.

Slowly, the girl broke into a grin. "Clara!" she called back over her shoulder.

"What is it, Aubrey?" came the voice of another girl. A moment later, a short, curly haired girl appeared in the doorway behind them. Her bright hazel eyes took in the sight of the people on the doorstep, and widened.

"Oh hello!" the new girl said. "And who are you?"

"Clara, she's the…" began the little girl—that is, Aubrey. Elle quickly held a finger to her lips, and winked at her. Then she turned to the older girl, a serious and slightly miffed expression on her face. The taxi driver recognized her, but not these people, who were in _her_ family's house?

Oh hell, no.

"I'm Ellington Connelly," said Elle, raising an eyebrow with the faintest air of superiority. "And I've come home."

After staring for a long moment, Clara slowly broke into a grin. "Annise!" she called back into the house. "You're going to want to see this."

A slow set of footsteps rang through the hall. Clara pulled the children away from the door, and there…

There, wearing a tight blue suit, a long brown overcoat and a red pair of Converse trainers, was—

"Annise?" Elle asked, slightly breathless. Her sister had grown, her hair was slightly less blonde, and she was definitely more grown up. She was nearly a teenager, and her physique showed it.

"Ellington?" Annise asked, green eyes bulging. She took in Elle's costume from head to toe. "But…how is that…possible?" She pulled out her tenth Doctor sonic replica and flashed it over Elle as if scanning her, casting her in an eerie blue light in the dusk. Elle did the same in return, except hers made a sound and clicked open at the end. Its crystal flashed a bright green, phasing.

They held up their Sonics in front of each other like a mirror image, staring in disbelief.

Bernard opted to stay silent and out of the way for this tentative part. He watched quietly with both hands behind his back, watching with a slightly guilty feeling in his stomach.

"Password?" asked Annise, skeptically, as if testing her.

"Auspicious Salamander." _That_ was a long story, involving a trip to Chinatown a spelling test and a book series they had adored a few years before.

Quickly, Annise raised her hand in the Vulcan salute, Elle mirroring her gesture at precisely at the same moment.

"_Le ab dollen," _said Annise, casting a wary eye over her sister. _You're late,_ in Middle-earth Elvish.

Elle tipped her head from side to side in an acknowledging way. "No. _Im goheno nin, an ngell nîn goheno nin. Peditham hi sui velyn?" Yes. I'm sorry, please forgive me. May we speak as friends now? _

Annise gasped, and covered her mouth with both hands to stifle her sob. Tears slithered quietly down her cheeks. "It's you…it's really…" she sucked air jaggedly.

"Merry Christmas, kid," Elle said with a short laugh, grinning but with fresh tears smarting her eyes. "I'm back."

* * *

**Ahahahaha FINALLY! *sobs in relief* I've gotten to the part I've been dying to write since the end of TEC. This is gonna be so much friggin fun (and drama, alas!) **

**Ah, the return of the mysterious Clara! What is she doing in the Connelly household, anyway? And how is Annise going to react to Elle's sudden return? And the others, Phillip, Josette, and Dottie? Who are these two mystery children? How did Annise find out about ****_Who_****, if Elle wasn't there to tell her about it? And how is Elle going to introduce Bernard? AHHHHHHHHHHHHH SO MANY QUESTIONS. ;)**

**SHOUTOUTS: To ****_WinterFrost15,_**** who is destroying my feels over in ****_Frost and Fire. _****Go check out her story, IT WILL KILL YOU WITH ANGSTY BERNORA, LIKE THE WOMAN IS MORE DIABOLICAL THAN ME D: She is extraordinarily talented, so go give her some love! Also, to Dani (SafyreSky). I have noticed, my dear, that in comments for FandF you have been referring to Elle as 'Elle bean'. :D CUTEST THING EVER OMG I LAUGHED SO HARD! I LOVE IT! So thanks, even though it was on another story and not even directed at me…yeah. I kidnapped that comment cause it was Elle-related. ;)**

**For those of you who haven't heard it yet, the Ellenora's Choice listed above, ****_Beating Heart, _****by ****_Ellie Goulding_****, was featured in the movie Divergent (2014). So is ****_Hanging On (I See MONSTAS Remix_****), as far as I know. Give it a listen for ambience in this chapter, it's very applicable! Like, EXACTLY. Good stuff (: I have also set up an 8tracks playlist for this story, and both are inside for easy access. Go to 8tracks and look up the TEC2: Defining Elle Mix, if you will. It's been updated today so everything is either new or a better version. Feel free to leave a comment on a song you think should be added in the comment section of either the story or playlist. I'm open to suggestions!**

**I have also gone over all of the previous chapters of TEC2 and edited them, adding songs and changing a few things here and there formatting wise, nothing huge or plot heavy. Just FYI (:**

**Hope you enjoyed the EXACTLY 7k chapter, guys! It was a sort of apology for not updating in so long. **

**Leave a comment, if you will. I'd love to hear your feels on this. I'm totally psyched to get going with the real plot now! **

**-Ana**


	11. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Informative Encounters

Santa took the winding steps that lead to the Elfland Security HQ two at a time—an impressive thing, considering his size (and weight.) He was in a hurry, eager to have Bernard's cover in place long before Phillip Connelly could set his judgmental gaze on him.

Scott had been through the difficulty of meeting in-laws before, and remembered as clearly as if it were yesterday the anxiety he had felt when facing Bud Newman for the first time. Of course, Bernard had the added difficulty of Mr. Connelly being an extremely wealthy man, with countless connections and means of investigation—as he had already proved. And then there was Elle's sisters to consider, who probably wouldn't welcome a strange man taking their place of priority in Elle's life.

All in all Scott didn't envy Bernard, and given how often the Head Elf had been there for him throughout all of his tenure as Santa, he wanted to help his Number One out in return (not to mention his Number Two.) Giving Bernard unlimited cash was easy, with a little magic; but giving him a respectable back-story that even Elle's father couldn't unravel was even better.

Luckily, the elves in the Elfland office were very much up to the job. To Santa's surprise, they had been preparing for this kind of a situation in advance—pretty much since news of Bernard and Elle's engagement had gotten out. Now, Scott found himself sitting at a desk in the Security department—which was up a tower, hence the climbing—surrounded by large computer screens that were swimming with information. Charts, graphs, ledgers, and official looking documents were scattered across all five monitors, leaving Santa more than a little confused.

"It's quite possibly our best work yet," said Kendall, Chief of Security, with a distinct note of pride in his voice. In spite of his Christmassy business suit and purple pointed shoes, he looked like a reliable authority—and was. "Given the amount of time we've had to prepare, we now have quite the finished product. This is the result of our years of work." He gestured around at the screens proudly.

"And…just what exactly is this?" Scott asked, slightly sheepishly. Coming from a business background himself, he was more than a little embarrassed at not fully understanding the complex array of information before him. Perhaps his years in the magical world was finally starting to take a toll on his real world knowledge.

"Allow me to explain," said Kendall graciously, pulling up a chair alongside Santa. The rest of the elves on staff began to withdraw from the room, heading off to other tasks while leaving their boss to finish the job. "You do know that the North Pole doesn't use forms of real world currency, or identification, correct?"

"Yes, of course," Scott replied quickly. "There's simply no need. We live in a remote environment, the elves don't frequently go into the non-magical world, and we use our own forms of both currency and ID."

"Correct," Kendall said. "But just because we don't have need of them here, doesn't mean we don't have them. In example, for many years now we've been following orders from your predecessor in regards to Bernard's—at the time,_ future_ — engagement."

"I don't understand."

Kendall sighed patiently. "Santa, when the Emissary Clause was enacted, there were certain precautions taken along with it, and no small amount of planning."

"So when you say 'predecessor', you really mean…"

"Nicholas of Myra, yes."

"I see." Scott tried to shake off how casually a saint had just been mentioned. "Go on."

Kendall set to typing rapidly on a keyboard, pulling up a copy of Bernard's real world 'identification'. "As you can see, we've taken the liberty of providing Bernard with a last name. And in conjunction with that last name, we've made some connections."

"Go on," Scott prompted, seeing the elf's expectant look. Pleased, Kendall continued his explainations.

"You may have guessed that we have quite the pool of money available at his disposal. What you may not yet understand is where that money is coming _from_. For quite some time, we have been following instructions left by our predecessors, those who were in charge before us." He pulled up a set of graphs. "Nicholas set a plan in motion: each year, a portion of Bernard's paycheck was to be deducted—without his knowledge of course—and set aside. After a set amount of time, that money was to be taken and invested in various real world enterprises. That was one hundred and fifty years ago." Squinting, Kendall procured an exceptionally long ledger. "Since then, our office has made certain real world investments using that overdraft money. And those investments have paid back—exponentially."

Scott magically summoned his glasses and perched them upon his nose, bending nearer to peer at the computer screen solemnly. "Kendal—" He cut off mid-sentence, blinked several times, and furrowed his brow. "Kendall, this ledger has a serious typo. I may not be as up to par on my business speak as I once was, but it says here that this account now balances at over 2.6 million USD." He glanced up and did a double take of Kendall's blasé look.

"That's because it _does_ total at around 2.6 mil…approximately." With a proud smirk, Kendall crossed his arms.

"You're telling me," said Scott, pointing a finger at the screen in disbelief, "That these accounts—these very accounts— are accurate? And more: are under _Bernard's_ name?"

"You could say that," Kendall said. "Though he doesn't know about the money yet. Call it a reverse dowry, from St. Nicholas to the only son he ever had."

Scott whistled. "So. Bernard's a millionaire. Well, slap me silly. That was _not _something I saw coming."

"It's been kept a secret for a reason," the head of Security told him. "Back when Jack Frost was more of a threat, he and Bernard were on horrible terms—even before Miss Elle came along. Back then, it would have been just like Mr. Frost to embezzle Bernard's money before he even knew he had it." The elf pulled up a few more images on the screens. "We've taken the liberty of securing real estate, buying vehicles and other commodities, and maintaining a semi-public presence in the American elitist circle. More of a ghost presence, really; people tend to know that he was involved, yet never see him. Believe it or not, we've been exceptionally successful. It would be unlikely that Mr. Connelly has failed to hear of him by now."

"And how long has this been going on?"

"Actively for the past five years—around the time Bernard 'supposedly' turned eighteen—though the public has no idea how old the elusive entrepreneur is. We've given him connections to just about everything—he's rather well known, and is generous to those less fortunate."

"That's probably good."

"Of course it is! He'd kill us if we'd made him a miser," Kendall chuckled weakly, and looked moderately disturbed before falling silent at the idea of Bernard's rage.

"No kidding," Scott said ruefully, and wondered just how he was going to break _this _to Bernard. Sometimes even good news upset him, and this was _certainly _a lot to take in. "It looks like I'm going to have to have quite the interesting conversation with him—to put it mildly."

* * *

Annise stood in the doorway, staring at her sister for another long moment. Elle was still grinning, Annise on the verge of tears—when suddenly, Annise's face twisted in anger. The next moment, she had slapped Elle hard across the face.

"How. COULD. You," she said furiously, with a stomp of her foot. Then she whirled, trench coat flying, and stormed back inside without another word.

Elle stood on the stoop, gasping and holding her cheek. "Annise?" she whispered, staring after her sister in disbelief. She looked back at Bernard, who seemed completely uncertain about what to do—but his look of horror wasn't missed.

The girl named Clara looked at her ruefully, and stepped aside. "Come on in," she said, gesturing to Elle. "I think it's just a lot for her to take in so suddenly."

Elle gaped for a few more seconds before collecting her figurative jaw off the pavement and clearing her throat. "Thank you," she said hoarsely, her cheek a bright red. She was still clutching her Sonic in one hand, and her duffel bag was at her feet. Despite her words though, she made no move towards the open door, instead staring off after Annise with a look of utter dread.

Seizing the moment, Bernard came slowly up the steps behind her, still carrying his bag. He picked up her duffel from her feet and slung it over his shoulder, setting his other hand on the small of her back. "Elle, come on," he said quietly in her ear, ushering her forward with a gentle push. Clara raised an eyebrow at him, but said nothing, instead setting a hand on each of the younger children's shoulders protectively.

With a sudden shake of her head, Elle strode into the foyer. "Annise!" she called, moving beyond Bernard's reach in a matter of seconds. "Annise, listen to me…"

Bernard sighed, and stepped beyond the doorway. Clara closed it behind him with a quiet click. "And who are you?" she asked him curiously, raising a suspicious eyebrow.

"I…" Bernard faltered, knowing he could say too much too quickly and ruin everything faster than he could say twenty three days to Christmas. "I think I should leave that for Elle to explain," he said discreetly.

"I see." Clara nodded. There was a gleam in her eye that unsettled Bernard a bit. "So she's Elle to you, eh? As far as I knew, only her sisters and her best friend called her that." She smiled knowingly. "You two must be very close."

Bernard blanched. "Like I said, I think I should let—"

"Right, right." For what appeared to be an eleven year old (Bernard was pretty good at telling kids' ages by now) this 'Clara' was very confident. "There's been a lot of speculation about why Ellington ran away," the girl said. "I guess we'll get to find out soon enough." She winked at him, and took the little boy by the hand, leading him off down the hall in a different direction—toward the kitchen, in fact. "Come along, Benji."

Aubrey smiled up at Bernard innocently. "Hello," she said. Bernard was vaguely reminded of Scott's red-headed niece Lucy—but while Lucy's hair was a lighter, orange red, Aubrey's was a deep red auburn. It was mesmerizing, and when paired along with her deep brown eyes, pale skin, and sweet smile, she was a stunning little girl. She held up her hand to him. "I'm Aubrey."

Bernard set down his bags and knelt down to shake her hand. "Bernard," he said kindly, giving the girl a lop-sided smile. Even with his magic impaired, it didn't take much to realize that this girl was just about as good as they came—but with just a touch of rascal on the side.

Aubrey giggled. "I know," she said, as if it were obvious. She cocked her head to the side, her eyes shining. "You remind me of someone."

"Oh yeah? Who?"

"Aubrey!" Clara was standing in the hall behind her, a hand on her hips. "Benji _was_ right. Mom told you not to talk to strangers."

Aubrey tossed her head to the side and stomped a foot. "But _Clara,_" she whined. "Bernard doesn't count as a stranger! He's—"

"AUBREY!"

With a sigh, the little redhead slouched. "_Fine."_

Clara went off down the hallway again. "Time for dinner."

Bernard watched the exchange with a wary eye. Once the older girl had turned away, he leaned in toward the child and whispered conspiratorially, "Big sister, huh?"

In a way that was rather humorous, Aubrey rolled her eyes. "You've got _no_ idea." She gently pulled her hand away and began shuffling after her sibling. "UGHHHHH," she cried melodramatically, throwing her hands up in a way that reminded Bernard of Elle. For a six year old, she certainly had a lot of moxy.

"How could you DO this to us?!"Bernard went down the opposite end of the hall and found Annise and Elle in the living room—which had apparently been completely redecorated in white since the last time he'd set foot inside it—and found Annise yelling in Elle's face, gesturing wildly. "How could you leave _me, here, _with them? You KNOW they don't understand!"

"Annise, please," Elle said, trying hard to hold back her tears. "You don't understand. I left because I _had _to. It was important, I swear! And I even tried to come down last Christmas; stuff just kind of…came up." _That _was an explanation for later: _yeah, so basically the place I work and live is surrounded by a polar ice shield that started melting last December when I was on vacation, and we couldn't fix it because the guy in charge of fixing it didn't have the right tools. I had to go back before I made it to Seattle. Did I mention that 'tools' means magic, and 'the place I live and work' is the North Pole? NO, I'M NOT ON SOMETHING! "_ I—"

"What could _possibly_ be more important than your _family,_ Elle? WHAT!"

"I…" Elle looked over at Bernard in the doorway, a torn expression on her face. Seeing him, her face closed off. "I can't say."

Annise looked ready to strangle Elle. "You know _why_ I'm doing this? Because Mama and Daddy _won't._ Neither will Dottie. They're going to be so happy to see you—sure, they'll be upset at first, but it'll blow over rather quickly."

"Probably not…"

"Let me FINISH!" She stepped closer into Elle's space, almost nose to nose. "They're only upset you went away without their permission. They missed you too—I _suppose_—but not the way I missed you. _Never_ the way I've missed you." A tear slipped down her cheek. "You were my best friend. And you just left and never told me why." She sniffed angrily, and looked down at the white rug. "And you still won't."

"Annise…" The younger girl walked away and flung herself into the plushy white sofa, crossing her arms.

Of all the situations Elle had envisioned, this was _not_ one of them. Annise was the last person she'd expected to be pissed with her—though, when she thought about it, Annise should have been the_ first_ person she worried about.

Annise glanced over at Bernard in the doorway. "Is he with you?" she asked, rather bluntly.

"Ah—yes," Elle nodded. "Bernard is—"

"JEEVES!" Annise suddenly bellowed. A faint pattering of feet came echoing in from an adjacent room. A few moments later, a young man in a butler's outfit came puffing in. He wasn't bad looking, with short black hair and chiseled facial features. He appeared to be in his twenties.

"Oh you've got to be kidding me," Elle couldn't resist saying. "A butler? Really? We have a _butler_ now?"

The butler appeared puzzled—and a bit taken aback. "I'm sorry, I don't believe we've met," he said to Elle apologetically.

Annise rolled her eyes. "Later. Jeeves, take this man to the third guest bedroom, and my sister's luggage to her room."

A look of understanding flitted through the man's eyes. "Yes, Miss Annise," he said with a short bow, and immediately went to Bernard's doorway.

"I've got the bags," Bernard said, a little prickly after seeing the way the man had looked Elle over. He took a deep breath and drew himself up to his full five foot, now _nine _inches, and moved out of the butler's way.

After a tense moment of hesitation, the man said stiffly, "Very well, sir. Follow me," and headed off towards a grand looking staircase. Casting a final 'oh lord help me/good luck' look at Elle, he followed the man.

Elle sighed deeply, listening to the sound of footsteps retreating down the hall. Then she went over and plunked herself down on the opposite side of the couch, bouncing on the cushions to test it. "Nice couch," she said at last. "Good plush. Not too springy."

"Really?" Now it was Annise's turn to look unimpressed. "We're going to talk about the couch?"

"Oh that's just for starters. I really shouldn't mention how the entire room looks like the bridge of the 2009 Trek movie. Could mom have made it whiter in here? I mean, stuff is white on _white! _I'm bracing myself for the lens flares." She shuddered. Those lens flares were almost painful sometimes. "Anyway, one thing is for certain: it must have cost a fortune to redecorate again. How many layers of paint came off this time? Eight?"

A snort from Annise. "Yeah, well. That's one thing that's gotten 'better' in your absence. Daddy's gotten even more money. Mom can afford to repaint as many times as she likes."

Elle sat, the icy void between her and her favorite sister filled with silence. "Annise…I know that I can never make up for what I did—not completely," she said finally, her voice quiet. "And the only explanation I can give is that it's kind of like the Doctor's name—I can't speak of it. It's too important and dangerous for me to tell even you. Otherwise you _know_ I would have." She leaned over towards her. "Annise, look at me. Please."

Reluctantly, Annise looked over at Elle.

"If there was a way for me to have stayed here and done what I needed to do, I would have," Elle said earnestly. "But there wasn't. I can't ever change what I did…and I don't regret what I did. I only regret that I wasn't here for you when I should have been." She paused, knowing how sensitive the subject she was about to approach was. "I know how hard it is for you—how the others don't understand. I wanted to always be there for you, to be the one who took the time…and I made a promise that I couldn't keep."

Annise inhaled sharply.

"But…I _am_ here now. And I can try and make it up to you." Elle watched Annise's face closely. There was a mixed expression of relief, anger, and caution, and with her arms crossed as tightly as they were Elle could tell that she was in a self-protective state. "I don't expect you to forgive me right away," Elle continued, "but—"

Suddenly Annise's face twisted. Instead of bursting into tears as might be expected, though, she burst out laughing.

Elle frowned in confusion. "What…what's so funny?"

"Oh! Oh, your face!" Annise was full out laughing now, rolling around on the sofa in stitches. "_SO_ Eleventh Doctor. All 'I must console the children, and/or Amy.' Priceless!"

"So…" Elle paused, sorting through the sudden reverse polarity of her sister's mood. "You're _not_ upset with me."

"No," Annise replied, stuffing back the rest of her chuckles. "Well, a little. Basically, I'm pissed with you…" Her face darkened for a moment before she continued. "But not that much. Gosh, I was just practicing my 'oncoming storm' act! Comic-con is in 9 months; I need to be on my game."

"That…" Elle shook her head, and gave her a long sideways look. "That was not cool, Nissy." She shot out an arm and grabbed her sister, wrapping her up and giving her a vigorous hair tousling.

"Don't…call me Nissy!" Annise screeched, trying to wiggle away and swat Elle's hand off her head at the same time. "And you did earn it!"

Elle finally stopped her attack and Annise pulled away, panting with crazy hair. The younger girl grinned.

"Very well, Doctor," Elle said primly, tilting her nose just slightly in the air.

Annise did the same, crossing her arms and looking the other way. "Very well _Doctor._" She let the act drop, and turned back to Elle with a confused look. "Hey…how did you get into _Who_ anyway? Last time we spoke you were still nuts about LOTR and _Trek_."

"I am," Elle replied staunchly. "But I've since discovered other things—as have you, apparently. How did _you_ learn about _Who_?"

"How do you think?" Annise replied with a wink.

"Seriously? Gramps?" Elle's eyes shone.

"He moved in with us about nine months ago," Annise informed her. "He's taken over the guest house, and I've been into Who ever since. Thank god, since Daddy and Mom don't get Trek or LOTR. It was horrible without you here." An air of sadness hung between them for a moment.

"I missed you," Elle confessed, taking her sister's hand. "Really I did. You've got no idea how hard it is to be a fangirl where I've been."

"Um, excuse me?" Annise retorted, gesturing to her outfit. "I think I do." She socked Elle in the arm.

"OW! Yeah." Elle grinned, rubbing her arm. "My bad."

They sat there for a bit, grinning like idiots. Then Annise got a wry look on her face. "Soooo," she drawled. "Who's the guy?"

Elle rolled her eyes, but was already flushing. Crap. How did she want to approach that subject?

"Oh, that's just Bernard," she said with a casual laugh, and flung her arm onto the back of the sofa. "We ah, work together."

"Oh really? That's all?" Annise asked skeptically, a judgmental eyebrow arched. She could tell Elle was lying. "_Just_ Bernard?"

"Shut up, you're twelve," Elle said, shoving her slightly. God, she was going to get hell for that later. _Just _Bernard. She could already visualize him glaring at her for the terrible introduction—which did nothing to help her nerves.

"Yeah, well. I'm not blind."

"Still."

"Whatever."Annise rolled her eyes, and checked her wristwatch. "You've got an hour before Dottie gets home, if you wanna unpack."

"What about Mom and Dad?" Elle asked, her nervousness undisguised.

"Dad's still at the office, and Mom's at one of her uppity Christmas benefits. Dottie's making dinner tonight, and Clara's watching the twins."

"Yeah," Elle said, distracted. Then she shook her head. "Wait a minute, who is Clara? I don't understand why she or those children are here."

"Clara is _my_ friend," Annise said with a look that said 'that was a bit rude'. "And 'those children' have names. Aubrey and Benjamin are four."

"Four? Both of them?"

"Fraternal twins, and Clara's younger siblings."

"Ah." Elle nodded.

"Their parents are away for the holiday on unexpected business, so they're staying with us for Christmas."

"Perfect." Elle sighed, and ran both of her hands through her hair so it stuck up at ridiculous angles. Seeing Annise's perturbed expression she added, "Sorry, it's not that I don't like them. It's just…" she sighed, and gave her sister a rueful look. "This is going to be really hard, isn't it?"

"No—well, maybe. Well, definitely; but only to a certain degree. Well…" she made a considering face. "Actually, yes. It's going to suck."

Elle moaned and pulled herself out of the plushy couch. "Fine. I've got to get out of this cosplay before everyone thinks I'm insane."

"Everyone is insane here," Annise called after her. "But don't worry! You can usually sonic your way out of it if it gets bad!"

"Yeah, yeah." Elle trudged down the hall to the staircase. "If only." This didn't make things easier. It was going to be hard with just her sisters and parents, but now her grandparent and some strange children thrown into the mix?

Oh, God no.

* * *

In an office on the other side of the city a man stood in his office, his hands clasped behind his back, a heavy weight on his brow as he looked out at the cityscape. No, he wasn't Batman—though he was nearly as rich and troubled. His name was Phillip Connelly, and he had a serious problem.

It had been much longer than he had expected. By now, he had thought that at least one of his efforts would have paid off. But it had been six months of searching—and two years of uncertainty—and Mr. Connelly was no closer to recovering his daughter.

His wife didn't agree with his methods. "Phillip, if you try and force her home she'll only want to leave more," she had reasoned, but his mind had remained unwavering. His eldest daughter—though his eldest daughter by marriage—was as stubborn as he was, and wouldn't just change her mind without intervention. If she thought that her current job and lifestyle was for her, then nothing he could say would convince her otherwise.

He was curious about what could have initially changed her mind, though, and so quickly. Before she'd suddenly vanished Ellington had seemed at least _content _with her college career, and she loved Seattle so much that she often opted out of going away on holiday. Perhaps Josette was right in her theory about Ellington having _followed_ someone North. Phillip had even considered that that someone might have been her best friend: Jacqueline Frost. Jacqueline had also vanished into the blue at the same time as Ellington—something that was too convenient to be coincidence.

But enough was enough. The damn investigations he'd started had led nowhere—now, it was time to take a different tactic. He'd stayed above the board for long enough, and as much as he didn't like the idea of acquiring unsavory help, it was his only remaining option. For this reason, he'd scheduled an interview with a man who was well known in the more elitist circles as the type of man who could do pretty much anything you needed—for a price.

On his desk, the intercom turned on. "Sir, your guest is here to see you," his receptionist told him. The blond man went to his desk and pressed the talk button.

"Send him in." Squaring his shoulders, Phillip turned back to the window. Once the man left his office, he would know whether finding his daughter was even an option at this point.

The heavy mahogany door behind him opened with a well-oiled click, and closed quietly. The sharp clacking of his receptionist's heels retreated down the hall, as the quiet scuffing of shoes was heard as the stranger walked through the spacious office towards the desk.

"Mr. Connelly," said a surprisingly quiet, gentlemanly voice. But there was an undertone that slightly unsettled Phillip—as if there were a silent threat hidden behind the calm in every syllable. "I believe you have a situation that requires my expertise?"

Phillip turned, and wasn't surprised to find a man in a well cut business suit and briefcase. However, he was surprised to see that he didn't look decidedly wicked—neither did he look decidedly good. He was a short man, with floppy brown hair and (oddly) yellow eyes. Besides that rather notable feature, he didn't look entirely impressive. "That depends on just what you are _able _to do for me."

The man laughed, with an air of false modesty. "I assure you, I am capable of much more than you realize." He came forward. "If I may?" he asked, gesturing to the desk.

"Be my guest," said Phillip, slightly skeptically. The man took the liberty of setting his briefcase on the desk, and flipping it open. Phillip couldn't see over its lid, but could hear the man moving things around.

"Now," the man said, "would you like to tell me what this 'situation is, or would you like me to tell you?" he asked, rather indifferently.

Phillip raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Isn't it usual, for the employer to—"

"Yes, yes, _usual,_" the man interrupted, with a dismissive wave of his hand. He looked up with a sideways smiled twisting his lips. "But I think that you and I both know your 'situation' is far from normal, don't we?" The confidence that the man exhibited was normal, in Phillip's line of work; he met confident men every day. But the knowledgeable look on the man's face—like he knew more about Phillip's situation than even Phillip himself knew—was completely unsettling.

"How do you know?" Phillip asked, sounding much more confident than he felt.

The man, who had returned to shuffling through his briefcase, shrugged slightly. "It is my job to know things, Mr. Connelly," he replied. "By nature of my work and travel, I know more than most people about nearly everything—including people's problems." Stifling arrogance. After a slight pause, however, he added with an oily smile, "This includes the whereabouts of your eldest daughter."

Phillip slammed his fists down on the desk. "You know where Ellington is?" he demanded harshly.

The man didn't even flinch. Instead, he raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps," he replied. "Though, most people seem to call her Elle now—especially those _close to her_." He said the last words tauntingly, as if confirming Phillip's worst fears.

"Tell me everything you know," Phillip said, glaring at the man, "or I'll—"

"Now, now," the man said, in complete control of the conversation and relishing it. "Let's not start making threats just yet. I think an arrangement might be in order."

"An arrangement," Phillip repeated dubiously.

"Call it a deal, if you like." The man flipped his suitcase shut, holding two sheets of paper and looking at Phillip, assessing him. "I'd like to prove myself first," he said. "Consider this a free consultation." He gave the man a knowing look, yellow eyes glinting. "The question isn't _when_ is your daughter coming home, Mr. Connelly; nor is it to encourage her to. The question is, where has she been, and _why?_" He handed the papers across to the father. "And those are questions that I am _certain_ your _Ellington _isn't going to answer for you."

"And you can?" Phillip's desperation was unfortunately obvious.

"Perhaps," the man said, with a grin. "We'll see." He gestured to the paper. "That should give you a short bout of relief, in the meantime. But don't expect much more than that—like I said, your darling daughter may be less than forthcoming about her 'situation'." He took his briefcase off the table, and turned to leave the office.

"That's it?" Phillip asked in disbelief.

"For now," the man replied, not looking back. "I have a feeling we'll be meeting again soon, Phillip. You don't mind if I call you Phillip, do you?" His calm voice echoed around the office in a way that was impressive, for such a small man.

"How will I know how to contact you?" Phillip asked, bewildered.

"We'll be in touch."

"I don't even know your name!"

The man stopped just in front of the mahogany doors, and turned. "You can call me, Aurelian," he said with a wry smile, and without another word, he left the office.

Mr. Connelly blinked after the man for a few seconds. Well, that had _not_ gone the way he'd planned. Unsettled by the feeling that he wasn't the one who had just been employed, Phillip glanced down at the papers in his hand. His face tightened.

"These must be forgeries," he sighed, and flung himself down into his leather wingback chair halfheartedly. He picked up his desk phone and called Kings Street Station.

Ten minutes later, he was watching a projection on his wall-the security camera footage from the landing of an _Amtrak Cascades _train. At 4:06 pm, a girl in a strange outfit—that _included _a bow-tie and suspenders— was disembarking from a car. He froze the image on her face. Despite the apparent nervousness, that face was unmistakable.

"My god…he was right," Phillip said, half horrified half relieved. If that man—Aurelian, he called himself—if he had been right about Ellington's return, the question had to be asked: what else had he been right about?

He unfroze the video, and watched her move out of frame. A new camera angle picked her up again, this time leaning close to a strange person—and that person was _not_ Jacqueline Frost.

Phillip Connelly's face contorted into a scowl as he watched the two of them interact. Ellington was much too casual with this person, and he didn't like it. Not one bit. Nor did he like the way that person was looking at _his _daughter.

"Who are you?" Phillip growled, glaring at the projection of the dark haired man. He fisted his hand, crumpling the papers Aurelian had given him. "Who are you, and what have you been doing with my little girl?"

* * *

**Not a whole lot to say about this chapter. Maybe it's just 'cause I'm tired (I got to bed at like three in the morning and awoke at seven, LESIGH.) IDK, but here it is! Hope it's not too disappointing. **

**LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, we have a ****_baddie! _****:D**

**Hopefully a few questions were answered in this, but I think I just made more…sorry! (NOT! I'm wicked li 'dat, pardons ;) Anyway, reviews are great and such, don't forget! They boost my writer's metabolism like no joke. **

**Till next time, dearies!**

**-Ana**


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